


By Your Side

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: (several times), Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating and content varies by chapter, post-episode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 54,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of mostly unrelated stories, in the theme of Danny staying by Steve's side.</p><p>Steve is hurt and Danny takes care of him.<br/>Or, Steve is in the hospital and Danny stays.<br/>Or, Steve is just not quite right and so Danny stays with him.......<br/>Or just, Danny stays with Steve.</p><p>Most chapters can be read as stand-alones. Some are continuations and are marked as such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at an ongoing “posting in a theme” type thing.... Range of togetherness will no doubt expand, possibly things won’t be chronological, or even in the same timeline.

Danny sensed, rather than saw, that Steve was waking up—the smirk quotient of the room was definitely rising.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, without turning to look at his injured partner.

“Like what?” Whispered Steve, mouth clearly dry, and probably his throat was hurt, along with the rest of him.

“What do you mean, like what? Like _that_ ,” sighed Danny.

“You stayed,” Steve replied, and yep, there was that trademark smirk.

“I stayed—“ Danny cut himself off before he yelled or swore, but the pent up frustration, and ok, maybe a little bit of concern—just a little—finally released, pushed him to his feet in exasperation. It calmed him enough to speak. “Well, of course I stayed. Where the heck else do you think I’m going to be when someone’s clearly trying to kill you—not that you need any help, by the way, you’re doing just fine in that regard all by yourself.”

Still he refused to look directly at Steve. Those big round seal eyes he knew would ruin his intention of staying mad at his incredibly frustrating and death seeking partner.

“You missed the Jets game,” Steve pointed out.

“I missed the Jets—since when do you—“ But he couldn’t finish that sentence, because he’d looked at Steve, seen those eyes. Aw, fuck. “Yeah. I missed the Jets game,” he sighed, deflated at that _look_ in Steve’s eyes. The one that Danny tried very hard to NOT think about what it meant. He sat back down. “Not,” he added, returning to more comfortable ground with a snarky attitude, “that I need to see it to know they lost.” But he’d run out of steam, and his criticism of his team didn’t carry its usual vehemence.

Steve’s goofy smile grew even broader, which reinvigorated Danny. “There, that. Don’t look at me like that.”

Steve looked down, clearly trying not to laugh. “Ok, Danno,” he smiled. “Thanks.” That last so softly, Danny wasn’t really sure he’d said it.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. “Insane. But welcome.” And, trying really hard not to think about how he was feeling, he leaned back in his chair and sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny was pacing back and forth under the window. He tried to do it softly, but he was pretty sure he was not succeeding. He may have been sighing somewhat dramatically as well. Thing is, Steve should have been awake by now. They kept reassuring him that it was good, that he needed his rest, but Danny was not at all convinced. All Danny knew what that Steve looked _pale_ and that was completely absurd. Ok, and utterly terrifying. It was also kind of terrifying how freaked out Danny was by all this. Really, really, really freaked out.

Steve was indestructible. Ok, that wasn’t really true, though he acted like it. But Danny felt certain that Steve had been thru much worse, with freaking Danny out a whole lot less. It was worrying on several different levels, not the least of which was that Danny had yet to sit still once in the past seven hours and he was starting to seriously come apart.

“Hey,” Kono whispered at his side, holding on to his arm, trying, he knew, to get him to just stand still for one minute. “You know he’ll pull thru this,” she tried to smile, tried to soothe. “You need to rest.”

Danny couldn’t even speak, just shook his head, but he did allow himself to be led to the chair by the side of the bed, and sat slowly, hesitatingly, as if by sitting he was somehow giving in.

Chin came in with some food for Danny, but Danny just looked at him like he’d throw up, and Chin took the food back out.

Kono produced a blanket and a pillow from somewhere, and tried to settle Danny in the chair. Having finally sat down, he realized how completely exhausted he was, and he just didn’t have the strength to resist the sleep that tugged at him once she tucked the blanket around him. He knew she and Chin would be just outside, and he felt comforted enough by that thought to stop fighting and drift off to sleep.

When he awoke, he knew he was being watched.

Opening his eyes, he saw Steve looking at him with the biggest goofiest grin someone who had been thru what he had could possibly even have on his face.

Danny didn’t move. He just glared at Steve. “Don’t you EVER do that to me again. EVER. Do you hear me?”

Steve nodded, all fake sincerity, and reached out a hand to Danny, who took it, held on to it like it was a life line, and just sat staring at him as Steve fell back asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Danny’s favorite ER nurse brought him a cup of coffee.

He really hated that he had a favorite ER nurse. It just didn’t say good things about the state of his blood pressure. He thanked her sincerely and went to sit down in his favorite chair in the waiting area. That was also a bad thing. Who has a favorite chair in the hospital emergency room waiting area? Ugh.

This time, he did have to admit, really wasn’t Steve’s fault. No one could have predicted just how stupid the suspect they had been chasing would have been. It was just dumb, and it was a freak thing, but here they were, once more, Danny waiting and Steve in the emergency room.

One time, early on in their partnership, Danny had actually calculated how much time he’d spent waiting for Steve in the hospital. Just counting the outpatient waits, not even considering those (blessedly fewer) times there had been substantial stays, it was a terrifying number, and Danny had vowed to NOT keep track from there on out. So, he couldn’t say exactly what percentage of his life was spent waiting for Steve to be sewn up, patched up, cleaned up, and otherwise fixed up after he had in whatever way broken himself in the line of duty, but it was without a doubt far, far too much.

Danny sighed, and stretched his neck from side to side. He contemplated asking if he could bring in his own chair to keep on hand, because really the ones they had were not exactly the most comfortable of things, especially considering that when he was waiting for Steve, he was usually tired, not to mention stressed, and very often at least a little banged up himself.

“Need me to take a look at you, too, Detective Williams?” The kind ER nurse offered.

He shook his head dismissively. “Naw, thanks, I’m just exhausted.”

“Ok,” she replied. “He should be almost done.”

“Thanks.”

As if on cue, Steve came walking out just a moment later. “Hey, Danno,” he said tiredly. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Sure, genius,” Danny replied. “Because I’m going to let you drive like that.” He pointed to Steve’s bandaged arm which was in a sling.

Steve grinned goofily. “Ok, then, Danno.”

“You doing ok?” Danny asked, as Steve joined him and they headed towards the door, and he knew he was tired, because he usually didn't let that kind of concern slip out.

“Yeah, it really wasn’t as bad as it looked,” Steve sounded like he was trying to put Danny’s mind at ease, but he should have known that would never work.

Danny huffed dismissively. “Sure, big guy,” he replied. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Steve responded. “But I’m beat. Can we get take out and go back to mine?”

“Anything you like, you big goof,” Danny replied, and he knew his voice was far too fond, but he just couldn’t help it. He was always grateful when he could leave the hospital with Steve. He’d count that as a win for the day, and dangit, but he felt like celebrating.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This one's sweet and light and silly.)

Danny hadn’t been able to convince the big hurt dope to go to the hospital. It had been really late, and they’d both been filthy and exhausted, and they hadn’t had anything to eat all day, and it was “just a scratch, Danno,” Steve had pleaded, and ok, sometimes when Steve pleaded like that, if Danny was really tired or his defenses were really down, he’d give in.

“I’m gonna go wash up,” Steve called, as he headed, limping slightly, towards the stairs. He swore slightly under his breath as he climbed them, and Danny felt the need to point out that the hospital didn’t have stairs. Steve practically growled. “Could you just help me, please, and quit harassing me?”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Danny rolled his eyes at Steve’s eye rolling at him, and they slowly climbed the stairs.

Danny got Steve into the bathroom where he informed him he could do the rest by himself or Danny would gladly drive him to the hospital, where they had people who were trained especially for things  _just like this_ , actually.

Steve grumbled.

“Pizza or Chinese?” Danny asked Steve.

“Both,” came Steve’s pissy reply.

Danny was just grumpy enough to do it, just to spite the big Neanderthal. He headed downstairs to call their usual places and place their usual orders, and maybe he looked forward to them both arriving at the same time with just a tiny bit of glee. He grabbed the whiskey, because frankly it was NOT a beer kind of day, thank you very much for your concern.

He’d finished his first and just poured his second when he heard a loud thud from upstairs. His heart skipped a beat, and he ran up the stairs maybe two at a time. Not that he was worried, or anything, mind.

Steve was sprawled on the floor half way out of the bathroom. Clean, wrapped in a towel, but very much bleeding. “Ow,” he said.

“Yeah, I bet,” replied Danny.

“A little help, please, Danno?” Steve asked, and he sounded less angry more just  _exhausted_.

Danny got him on the bed. “Ok, wait there. I need to clean up first if I’m going to dress that for you, because who knows what kind of filth I’m covered in.”

Steve just nodded, and crawled up the bed to lean against the headboard.

Danny scrubbed off as best he could, then helped himself to some sweats and a tee from Steve’s dresser, and then got the med kit out and proceeded to bandage Steve’s “scratch” which bore a striking resemblance to a  _gash_  if you wanted to know.

“Thanks, Danno,” Steve replied, all kindness and fondness, and crap, Danny did not need a loopy snuggly Steve tonight, thank you.

“Get dressed, you oaf. The food will be here soon, and I’m starving.”

Steve nodded as Danny pulled sweats and a tee out of a drawer and threw them at him.

Danny went down stairs to get the bottle of whiskey and another glass, then brought them back upstairs.

“We’re eating up here,” he proclaimed as he walked in without knocking. Fortunately, Steve had managed to get dressed, but hadn’t moved from the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, and Danny was glad he’d decided that because even if he felt he could have gotten Steve downstairs without injury, he was absolutely certain he would not have been able to get him back _up_.

Danny set his drink down on the other bedside table, and went back down to gather plates, bowls, some napkins, and a tray. When the food came (and it did come at the same time, much to Danny’s delight. The delivery boys were sizing each other up when he opened the door. “Thanks, guys!” He called out as they left.), he put the Chinese and the dishes on the tray, put that on top of the pizza box, and carried it all upstairs in one trip.

Steve was nursing his whiskey and trying not to grimace, but when he saw Danny laden with food, his laugh was a mix of amusement, affection, and relief.

“You spoil me, Danno,” he sighed with such fondness, Danny stumbled a little.

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it,” Danny replied, but it didn’t sound threatening, it just sounded  _sweet_.

By the time they’d eaten way too much, they’d drunk way too much as well, and when Danny came back from putting the leftovers away, he said: “Nope.”

“What’s that, Danno?” Steve asked, sleepily.

“Not driving.”

“No, you’re not,” Steve replied, patting the bed next to him. “Come on.”

Danny was too tired and too squishily fond to resist, and he didn’t even hesitate, he just crawled right in.

“Thanks for staying, Danno,” Steve whispered, as they lay there, side by side, drifting off to sleep.

“Of course, you big goof,” Danny replied, and he sighed. Maybe he was glad they’d skipped the hospital after all.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This one's a bit more emotional....)

Danny sits by the bed. His head is in his hands, and he's shaking silently. After a while, he looks up. His eyes are red, his cheeks wet. He looks destroyed. On the bed next to him is Steve, and frankly he doesn't look much better. He's clearly been through a bad fall, or something worse. Scratched, bruised, arm and leg broken, ribs probably, and he looks too still. Unnaturally still. And maybe it's that, and maybe it's how upset his partner is, that indicates this is more than just a usual Steve McGarrett post-case hospital stay.

Chin and Kono are nowhere to be seen, and that seems to indicate Steve's been like this for some time. Danny's wearing clean clothes, so maybe someone brought him a change, because it doesn't seem as though he's left Steve's side. When the nurses come in to check his vitals, they work around Danny. One of them pats him gently on other shoulder. He sniffs a thanks, but he doesn't ask how Steve's doing because he knows.

There are flowers on the counter across the room. Bright cheerful arrangements of tropical flowers, and a couple plants. Danny looks loathingly at the plants, as though it's their fault this looks like a long stay. There are cards, too. One handmade one in crayon with glitter, and more tears come to Danny's eyes.

He gets up and stretches, and it's clear he'd not moved in some time. Probably slept in that chair, not for the first time. Moving to the window, he looks out, and he doesn't have to speak for it to be obvious he's cursing the wretched island once more. But then something shifts, and it seems like he's making a deal, with whatever island deities of injured sailors might listen, and his look at his partner makes it clear what his offer is.

After a long while he moves from the window back to the chair, but he sits on the edge, head tilted, looking at Steve's face. His expression has shifted from broken, from hurt, from fear, to one of almost reverence. His face has softened, and there's a slight smile playing on his lips. He's whispering things... some tumble of words, spoken lovingly and softly laughingly... things like "crazy," and "insane," and "beautiful." And it's as though he's dancing around saying the thing he really wants to say, but he'll only say it once Steve wakes up.

Having said his fill, he leans back in his chair and drifts surprisingly easily off to sleep, with a determined smile on his lips. A nurse comes in awhile later, and tucks a blanket around the sleeping detective. She smiles knowingly at him, and then looks sternly at the Navy SEAL in the bed, as if scolding him for worrying his partner so. She leaves a bottle of water by Danny's side before she goes silently back out.

When he wakes, it's dark. Steve still hasn't moved, but he looks more peaceful, less tormented, and Danny notices immediately. He moves, warmly, closer, and rests his hand atop the less-injured one at Steve's side. Sighing fondly, Danny begins his whispering again, pausing now and then to press a soft kiss to the hand beneath his. His tumble of promises go on for longer this time, as though in his sleep he's invented more. "Always," and "never," and "you."

He finishes as the sun begins to rise, and he moves back to the window to watch the sky lighten from purple to pink, and maybe he's offering more to the island gods, and maybe they listen, because there's the softest stirring on the bed behind him, and when he turns, the look on his face is so open, so honest, so utterly, wreckingly plain, Steve can't possibly miss what's written there.

And he doesn't. That is clear, too, in his own eyes, on his bruised and battered face. He knew. Maybe he heard those whispered promises, and maybe he just knew, all along. And it's clear as well that he's made his own promises, and when Danny walks slowly to him, leans down, and kisses him on the lips, it's utterly, delightfully, crystal clear that they both finally get it.

The sun fills the room, sparkling off the glitter of the handmade card, and it's like a message from the island gods, a promise, a wish, and a blessing. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve thinks that Danny smells like comfort.
> 
> (This chapter doesn't necessarily follow from the previous one. It can, but it can also be read as a separate timeline... up to you!)

Steve was drifting blearily in and out of consciousness, he knew. He tried to hold on, to fix on something, to hold himself there, but he just couldn’t. He’d fade back out, then fade back in, and it was kind of making him dizzy. Or maybe that was whatever was wrong with his head, because something was clearly not right there, and man, did it hurt, and God, why was it so bright, and ugh, please don’t throw up........

Not wanting to open his eyes, lest there be a repeat of that last incident, Steve held them firmly shut, and explored his body, taking inventory in his mind. He could wiggle his toes, that was always a good thing, though his legs seemed awfully sore and stiff. His arms seemed intact, which was a relief. But his head. Oh, did his head hurt. He decided to keep his eyes closed, just for awhile longer........

He smelled something. He tried to place it. It was soothing, and familiar, and not hospital. It made him think of sunshine and soap and coffee and something sweet, and it made him smile. At least, it made him think of smiling. He was pretty sure he couldn’t actually smile, because his head still hurt so dang much. But the smell filled his senses and made him feel warm, and that was helping his head. Rather a lot.........

Steve frowned. At least, he thought he did. That comforting smell was fainter... like it was further away. He might have whimpered a little when he realized that, because he felt bereft somehow. But after he made the sound (and it sounded pathetic even to his addled mind), the smell grew stronger. It seemed to be connected to a soft murmuring sound, which was even more soothing, and Steve wasn’t sure but he thought he sighed somewhat dreamily before drifting off........

His hand felt warm. It was a really nice feeling, cozy, protective, grounding... like it was pulling him to stay awake, and he wanted to, because he wanted to feel more of it, oh so much more, but his head just.........

He opened his eyes, just slightly, testing... they only opened a crack, and all he could see were shapes and colors, but there was gold, and blue, and warm, and yes, that’s not a color, but it’s how it seemed. That soothing smell seemed more heavily flavored to coffee, but still it was comforting, and his hand was still warm, and his arm felt a little warm too, and something soft was caressing his head, and ohhh, that helped, yeah, that helped a lot.........

The next time Steve felt himself pulling towards the surface, he felt something warm and soft pressing against his lips. There was a soft murmuring sound, and that smell that tugged at his heart was filling his senses, like it was washing over him, and it was so strongly of coffee now, with just bare hints of soap and sunshine and sweetness, but the effect was almost as though he was drinking a cup of coffee... he could almost taste it, and he licked his lips at that thought, and felt a drop of something wet fall onto his cheek, and the warmth was gone from his lips, and the murmuring grew louder, more insistent, and he tried, he tried to open his eyes, and he got them just a little open, at least one of them, and he saw gold and worry and blue and salt water, and it filled his field of vision, and came even closer, and his lips were warm again, and ohhh that was so nice.........

Steve opened his eyes. It was mostly dark, just a few faint lights. He felt, rather than saw, that his hand was being held, softly but firmly. He smelled coffee and something sweet. And he heard a low, soft rumble of words. He moved, experimentally, to see how much he could, and the words stopped. The grasp on his hand firmed, and a sparkling golden head moved to look in his eyes.

“Hey, babe,” said the familiar voice. But the tone was a new one. It was soft, and loving, and a bit sad, and so grateful and relieved, it made Steve’s eyes water, and soon he was crying, and the blue eyes looking into his had clearly been crying before, and they started again as he did, and that golden head moved towards his, and his lips, oh, his lips were warm again, and ohhh, it was bliss. The blue eyes sought his, the lips curled into a smile, and the voice, oh, that voice said “Welcome back, babe. I missed you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of 47 times Danny stays over in case Steve has a concussion....
> 
> (This one is a step backwards, time-wise, from the last two chapters.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since the last chapter... I've got a bunch of stuff I'm working on and I started a new series that kind of goes with this one (with sick Danny/comforting Steve). I've got three new chapters for you over the coming days, one of which is a bit longer, so hopefully that all makes up for it.... :-)

 

Danny sat in the dark, drinking his coffee. He’d lit a single candle, and he was watching it dance and flicker, and as long as he watched it, focused on it, he didn’t feel like the world was falling out from beneath him. Holding the warm coffee mug was helping too. Grounding him, making him less afraid that he was falling. _God, falling so hard_. It felt just like that feeling when you drop suddenly and your stomach takes awhile to catch up. Only, it’d been quite a long while, and he was beginning to worry that his stomach was never going to actually catch up. He closed his eyes on the thought. His eyes stung, and he shook his head, willing the tears to not fall. Setting his cup down, he rubbed his hands over his face, pressing his finger tips into his eyes. Then he sighed out a huge breath, dropped his hands, shook his head slightly, and picking his cup up again, went back to watching the candle.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, but when he heard Steve’s footsteps on the stairs, he noticed it was starting to get light out. Danny watched as Steve walked slowly but mostly steadily towards him. When Steve got to the sofa, he laid down, resting his head in Danny’s lap. Danny huffed out something that was a mix of a sob and a laugh and began softly stroking Steve’s head. Steve’s poor, battered head. That sweet head that was hard as rock, yet terrifyingly susceptible to injury when the idiot fell from stupid heights while chasing even bigger idiots. Steve turned his head to press a kiss to Danny’s thigh, then sighed and snuggled into the sofa, drifting off to sleep.

Danny blinked at the intimate gesture, and couldn’t keep a tear from rolling down his cheek. The warmth of Steve against him was steadying, and the funny thing was, and maybe it was more frustrating than funny, and maybe it just was... right. But, Danny didn’t feel so much like he was falling anymore. He felt... well. He felt like he was right where he needed to be, and maybe he bit his lip a bit as more tears started to form in his eyes, and maybe he blinked them away, but he was suddenly filled with warmth and comfort and... ok, love. And he kissed the fingers on the hand that had been petting Steve, pressed them to his temple, and let his hand rest on that beloved head, and he felt his stomach catch up, as he just knew, this was it. This was right. This was where he belonged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV on Chapter 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jadzia had said that chapter 6 was kind of like Steve's POV on chapter 5. I was writing chapter 7 at the time, and wanted "more" for it..... so, this happened. Just a little something. I tried to make it more, but this was what it wanted to be. 
> 
> Chapter 9 is longer, and I'm working on another long one for 10.... so, it all balances out. 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone, be safe!

“Danno, you really don’t have to stay, I promise, I’m fine.” Steve wasn’t really sure why he was telling Danny to leave when that was the last thing he wanted, head injury or otherwise.

“Don’t be ridiculous, babe,” Danny replied, and sat on the bed next to him, tucking the blanket around Steve. It wouldn’t be the first time Danny sat on Steve’s bed while Steve slept after a head injury, and if Steve was honest, he’d become maybe a bit too used to it. He was fairly sure that if Danny didn't stay, he wouldn’t sleep, and he sighed as he tried not to think too hard about that. He wanted to wait till Danny fell asleep as well, but he was so tired and sore that he drifted off to sleep fairly quickly.

Sometime later, he jolted awake and felt Danny’s absence. He sat up slowly, and listened. He smelled coffee, and smiled. Carefully he got out of bed and headed downstairs. When he saw Danny sitting on the sofa staring intently at a candle, his breath hitched and his heart turned over. Slowly he walked towards Danny, feeling pulled to him like the proverbial moth to the flame.

He laid down on the sofa and rested his head on Danny’s lap, needing that contact to feel at peace. Danny’s hand on his injured head was like bliss, and before he knew what he was doing, he pressed a kiss to the leg under his head. He snuggled further in and smiled when he felt Danny react to the kiss. He wanted to tell Danny to stay, to always stay.... Somehow, and maybe he was imagining it, but it almost felt like Danny heard him. It was probably his injured head, but it was almost as if he could feel Danny deciding that he wanted to stay... not just when Steve was hurt, but more than that. Steve sighed slightly, telling himself he was crazy, but still, part of him dared hope, and he fell back asleep with a surprisingly joyful heart.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s not really that badly hurt, but Danny stays anyway....
> 
> (Can be read as a continuation of the last two chapters. Or not. Up to you.)

Steve knew he wasn’t really that badly hurt, but part of him was hoping that Danny would do his protective-of-an-injured-Steve routine, because, well, he just kind of didn’t want to be alone tonight. It’d been a bit of a rough week, nothing really major, but not an easy one by any stretch of anyone’s imagination, and while Steve wasn’t very injured, he was really sore, and... well. He’d been getting used to being cared for by Danny. And, ok, if he was totally and completely honest, he just plain wanted some Danny attention tonight. He sighed at that thought. Too dramatically. He’d been warring with himself over his developing feelings for his partner for a while now, but this was different, tonight. He just... he just really wanted Danny to stay.

“Hey, babe, you sure you’re ok?” Danny asked. He’d been heading towards the door, like he was going to leave, but he was looking at Steve right now like maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

Steve held his breath and nodded. He wasn’t going to be able to be convincing, he knew, because he just wanted Danny to stay so badly.

Danny frowned. He walked back towards Steve, and ok, maybe Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “I dunno, babe, you don’t look so good. Maybe I should take you to the hospital after all... could be some internal injury.”

Steve just shook his head, and bit his lip.

“Ok, tell you what,” Danny said, setting his keys on the table. “I’ll order us some food, because you probably would just eat an MRE or something disgusting, and I’ll stay for dinner, and then if you’re ok I’ll leave, sound good?”

Steve tried not to look too giddy. He nodded, and maybe that wasn’t the best idea, because even if he wasn’t badly hurt, he definitely hurt rather a lot, and maybe he looked pale and woozy, and staggered a little, because Danny grabbed his arm to steady him. “Ok, then,” smiled Danny. “You go sit down before you fall over.”

Steve went to sit on the sofa, and tried to find something on TV that might get Danny to stay longer. Like a Bond marathon or something. He heard Danny order their usual Thai food and open two beers, and by the time he came to sit next to him, Steve had pressed play on _Casino Royale_ which he fortunately still had on his DVR.

“Ohhh, I love this one,” Danny said, as he sat. He pulled his feet up on the sofa and, yeah, cuddled against Steve. Steve might have whimpered a tiny bit because Danny pulled back to look at him. “You sure you’re ok, babe?” His face was the picture of concern, and Steve just couldn’t stand it. He nodded and turned the sound up, which was good because when Danny leaned back against him again he was pretty sure he made a soft sound of contentment.

When the food came, and Danny went to get it, Steve went to the kitchen to get more beers and plates and stuff. Danny brought the food into the kitchen, and they busied themselves serving—Danny picking out the bits Steve liked best and making sure he got more of them, and taking the things he knew Steve didn’t like—and Steve just wanted to frame this moment. This is what he had been craving tonight. His heart went all fuzzy, and he had to take a long drink of his beer to quell the thoughts that were seeping to the surface.

They ate on the sofa, watching the movie, and while Danny relaxed (food and beer and Bond making him drowsy and contented), Steve just grew more alert—the proximity of Danny and the feelings he was trying to ignore combining in some sort of almost adrenaline-like rush that was keeping him from settling down. He got up to clear the dishes and open two more beers, and on some impulse, grabbed a few of the peppermint patties he knew Danny loved.

“Ohhh, goodie,” Danny perked up when Steve tossed the candies on the coffee table. Danny took one, and popped it in his mouth, closing it over a moan which went straight to Steve’s gut. He bit back a groan, or so he thought, but Danny turned to him with a renewal of his concerned look. “Ok, babe. That’s the fifth time. I think I need to take you in.”

Steve sighed heavily and leaned back into the sofa, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m fine, Daniel. Really.”

Danny pulled back at the use of his name, and gave Steve a quizzical look. “No, I don’t think you are.... But maybe....” He trailed off, and that should have made Steve suspicious, but he was so frustrated and pissed off with himself for not being able to restrain himself better, that he didn’t notice the shift in the way Danny was looking at him. He heard Danny unwrap another of the frozen mints, and the sounds he made when he chewed it bordered on obscene. Steve’s eyes flew open, and, completely unable to control his reaction, he glared at Danny. The look on Danny’s face stopped him cold. It was absolute triumph. “Ah-ha!” Danny exclaimed, pointing at Steve, and Steve had no idea what to think. He squinted at Danny.

“What?” He asked, cautiously.

Instead of answering, Danny leaned slowly forward, into Steve. Steve had stilled, and found he wasn’t breathing as Danny leaned even closer. Danny stopped inches from Steve’s face, looking searchingly into Steve’s eyes, just the barest hint of question lingering there. The slightest whimper escaped Steve’s lips, and Danny’s face broke into a huge, exuberant, almost giddy smile, and he closed the distance, pressing a firm kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve moaned, and melted against Danny, and Danny responded with such enthusiasm, pulling him close, running his fingers up the back of his head, and through his hair, and Steve felt like he was going to pass out, it was just so much.

Danny pulled back, still smiling triumphantly, and, voice husky, said: “You had better get completely healed fast, because, when you do, the things I’m going to do to you…..” Steve didn’t bite back his moan at that, and Danny smirked. “Maybe this will motivate you to not get hurt so much…..” And Steve rolled his eyes, pulling Danny in for another kiss.

“Thanks for staying, Danno,” Steve whispered to Danny's lips, and even he could tell he sounded blissed out.

Danny laughed softly. “You could have just asked, you know, you big goof,” he said so, so fondly, and pressed closer to Steve for more kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I realized too late that I was posting back to back stories that mention the mints.... Total coincidence! The stand alone story "Hot Enough to Melt Chocolate" that I posted NYD, I wrote about a month ago. This chapter I wrote last week. Oops! Please excuse. :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets shot protecting Danny. For some reason, this pisses Danny off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not really sure where this one goes, time wise... you can decide....

The whole time Steve was in the ER getting taken care of, Danny paced back and forth in the waiting room. At first, he’d been pacing in front of the doors to the ER, but the nurses had moved him (the mean one threatened to throw him out, but the nice one, Danny’s favorite, had put a stop to that nonsense and simply moved him out of the way where he could still show his concern but not cause a potential accident). He alternated cursing Steve and his stupid self-sacrificing tendencies to himself under his breath and praising him for saving his butt. Danny would admit he’d been distracted. Steve had been driving him crazy all week with completely ignoring procedure, taking things into his own hands more than once too often, and otherwise just being a pain in Danny’s side. Till the gunman they were chasing threatened to be rather more than a pain in Danny’s side. Steve had seen it coming, and yelled at Danny, but had also thrown himself in the path of the shooter, sparing Danny getting hit by using his own body as a fucking shield, and taking out the shooter at the same time.

 _Dammit_ , Danny swore at the Steve in his head. _How could you be so stupid!_ He stopped his pacing to bury his head in his hands, let out a little groan of frustration and anger and worry, and resumed his pacing, but in maybe a slightly more sporadic and halting manner. Honestly, he felt almost drunk. He felt woozy, bleary, totally hyper aware and over-sensitized, and yet totally uncoordinated and unable to function. He realized he was pacing at this point because if he stopped he thought he might throw up... the movement was keeping the thinking at bay. As long as he kept moving, it kept it all from sinking in.... And he might have had some weird sense that his movement was somehow linked with Steve’s ability to be less injured.

There had been a lot of blood. Gee, go figure. But somehow there hadn’t been a lot of screaming. Danny hadn’t understood that, hadn’t comprehended why everyone wasn’t completely freaking out. _He’d_ been completely freaking out, and maybe, he thought, Chin and Kono at least had been trying to balance out his freaking out by not freaking out themselves. Also, it hadn’t been them that Steve had gotten shot protecting, so maybe that had something to do with it. Yeah, that must have been it. Ok, maybe also a little bit because maybe Steve’s injuries were maybe not all that super serious. Maybe. But. There’d been a lot of blood. And a lot of freaking out.

And, how much longer was this going to take, because Danny seriously was going to either pass out or throw up or possibly, God help him, _both_.

He was just about to crumple to the floor when the nice ER nurse came over to tell him that Steve was all done and about to be released. Danny let out a sob at that, and thankfully she was prepared, because he actually hugged her. She was more than a little used to Danny waiting for Steve, and he was pretty sure she’d worked out that this time had been a little more than usually... intense. Or Meaningful. Or something.

“He’s going to be just fine, Detective Williams,” she whispered. “You’re going to have to drive for a while....” And Danny laughed at that, and yeah, she’d probably known he would.

“Good. Serves him right,” Danny huffed, then thanked her, and resumed his pacing.

Fairly soon after, Steve was wheeled out and deposited in front of Danny, and yeah, maybe the entire ER was a little too used to this.

Steve, Danny noticed, was looking a little sheepish. And well he should, Danny thought.

“Ok, babe,” Danny sighed. “Let’s get you home. Evidently I have to drive,” he aimed for light and breezy on that last bit, and it did get a bit of a laugh out of Steve, so that was good.

“Yeah,” Steve gestured to his bandaged right thigh. “I’m not going to be much good for driving _or_ chasing for a while....” For some reason, this made Danny pat his head, I dunno, for comfort or something, and maybe he sighed a bit as well.

Danny started wheeling Steve out to the car. The fresh air helped clear his mind a little, and he felt a lot less likely to throw up or pass out, though he still felt really weird. “Do you, um, need some food or something?” He asked, and he realized he sounded a little strange.

“Honestly, I think I’d just throw up right now,” Steve replied, and he sounded a bit odd as well.

“Good,” Danny replied, then realized that came across badly. “I mean, me too, so yeah, no food just yet. We can get something later or something....” And, yes, he realized he sounded nervous. What the hell was that about? Ugh.

Neither of them said another word the whole time back to Steve’s. When they walked in the door and stood facing the stairs, Steve kind of deflated.

“I think I’d rather just sleep on the sofa, to be honest. I don’t think I can do stairs right now.”

Danny sighed in relief, because he wasn’t even sure he could get himself up the stairs, let alone an injured Steve.

They hobbled over to the sofa, and Danny began to get blankets and pillows out for Steve, and for himself, for the easy chair.

Steve protested, “Danno, no. You need to sleep. At least go sleep--”

Danny turned on him with a fiery look that stopped the words on Steve’s tongue. “If you think. Even for one fucking second. That I’m going so much as ten feet from you right now....” He threw his arms up in frustration, and couldn’t finish the thought.

Steve made a sign of withdrawal and settled back on the sofa.

Danny slid into the chair, reclining it only half way, and wrapping the blanket around himself with maybe a little more force than was called for.

After a good while in which neither spoke, and it was painfully clear neither was drifting off to sleep either, Steve spoke.

“I’m not sorry, you know. And I’d do it again in a second.” Steve’s emotionless tone was at odds with the weight of those words. Addressing what they’d been avoiding.

Danny turned over in the chair, sighing. “Yeah, babe. I know. I know.”

And clearly so much more needed to be said, and equally clearly, neither of them was anywhere close to being able to say it, so it just floated there, between them... and eventually they did drift off to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Danny woke to thudding sounds and a yelp of pain. “Shit, shit, shit,” he swore. “What the fuck are you even doing, McGarrett?”

“I had to pee, Daniel, ok?”

The hall light was on, and Danny headed toward it. “Would you like some help?” He asked in a very unhelpful tone.

“No.” A sigh. “Yes.” Another sigh.

“Really, I should leave you there, on the floor, to think about what you’ve done,” Danny said, as he pulled Steve to his feet… foot… as Steve was clearly not putting weight on his injured leg. “Did you... yet? Or do you need to?”

“I didn’t yet,” Steve said softly, and Danny was fairly sure he blushed.

They hobbled the rest of the way down the hall to the half-bath, and once he had the door open and the light on, Danny stepped back. “Can you take it from here, big guy?” He asked, but there was a kindness to his voice that took the edge off his words.

Steve laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I hope so.” But he left the door open.

Danny waited patiently in the hall till Steve was done, turning off the light for him, and taking his right side as they headed back to the sofa. When they walked past the kitchen Danny thought maybe they should eat, but again he didn’t think he could face food.

“We should at least drink something, right?” He asked Steve, who nodded stiffly.

“Yeah, I could do with a drink.”

“I meant water, you idiot,” Danny replied, as he lowered Steve to the sofa. He went back to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water, returning to the living room to hand Steve his.

“Thanks, Danny,” Steve said softly, and Danny just grunted in reply, sitting back in his chair and drinking his water.

After another long pause during which neither made a move to go back to sleep, Steve spoke again. Softly, kindly, but very firmly.

“I’m not going to apologize for doing my job.”

Danny huffed.

“And I’m not going to apologize for protecting your ass.”

Danny huffed again.

“What do you want me to say, Daniel?”

Danny sighed, a long, deep, huge sigh. “I don’t know, Steven. I don’t know.” And, finally, he looked at Steve. And, crap, that had been a mistake, because as soon as he did, he saw, in those hazel eyes, all of the things that neither of them were saying. That neither of them _could_ say. Not yet. And his laugh was almost a sob, and if he rubbed at his eyes maybe it was to clear the sleep and maybe it was to hide the tears.

Steve patted the sofa next to him. “Come here.” Danny shook his head. “Please?” And he said it so softly, Danny’s heart broke a little, and who was he to refuse such a plea?

He kind of fell down next to Steve, and Steve’s arm came around him, and pulled him in close, and he bent to whisper in his ear. “I’m always going to leap to protect you. And maybe I’ll get hurt doing it. But I am not ever going to be able to stop that reflex. And I’m never going to try. And you’re just going to have to be ok with that.” And he kissed him on the cheek, slowly, holding him, putting what he couldn’t say into that soft kiss.

And Danny just sat there, tears falling freely now, not daring to move, not even breathing. Steve started wiping the tears away—catching them, as they fell, on his fingers—smiling softly, kissing the cheek again, and leaning his forehead against the side of Danny’s head. Smiling. And just waiting for Danny. Eventually, Danny started breathing again, and the tears stopped flowing, and he fell against Steve with a huff.

“There ya go,” Steve said softly. And he leaned back as best he could, pulling Danny up on the sofa with him, so Danny was resting against him, and he raised his hurt leg to rest on the coffee table and pulled the blanket up around Danny, and kissed the top of his head.

“I hate you,” Danny whispered.

“I know you do,” Steve smiled. “I know you do.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s not actually hurt in this one, but it’s in the “Danny stays when Steve’s hurt” ‘verse, so it gets included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while again. Not my plan at all, but I got distracted by a certain episode (s6e11) and needed to write two rather long (for me) stories about it.... So that kind of took up last week.... 
> 
> But I've got two nice chapters for you this week. :-)

Steve wasn’t hurt. Like, not even a little. But Danny had been shaken by the events of the day, and Steve could tell that Danny didn’t want to be alone. Steve also knew that they’d kind of established a comfortable routine where Steve, big stupid oaf that he was (Danny’s words) got hurt, and Danny stayed to make sure he was ok. Considering his options, Steve thought about faking something to cause Danny to feel concerned and “obligated” enough to stay over. He sighed. That just felt _stupid_. Steve was beginning to feel just plain frustrated that they couldn’t bring themselves to admit what was happening between them and, more importantly,  _do_ something about it.

Danny knew Steve wasn’t hurt. He could tell, though, that he was considering faking something. He’d kind of thought that had happened a few times in the past, though he couldn’t be sure. But, they’d got themselves to this place where that was what happened. Steve got hurt because that’s what the oaf did, and Danny did his best to make sure Steve didn’t do anything too stupid and at least rested a little so he’d heal faster. Danny was beginning to wish they hadn’t let it become such a thing, because it was at this really awkward place where he wanted to stay any way, but felt he couldn’t really, because Steve  _wasn’t_ hurt. He sighed in frustration.

“Danny, look,” Steve started, at the same time Danny had begun to say something. “No, you go ahead,” Steve said, frankly curious as to what Danny had been about to say.

They both sighed. Danny smiled tentatively. “Look,” he started, and he sounded exhausted, maybe from the day, maybe just from everything they were avoiding facing. “It’s late, your truck’s still at the office, if I leave, you’ll be without a car—and don’t give me the Merc, because no way am I counting on that hunk of metal getting you anywhere important. So, I’m just gonna crash on the sofa, and we’ll deal with it all tomorrow.” By the time he finished, Steve was smiling hugely.

“No,” Steve said, on a smirk.

“W-what?” Danny looked shocked.

“No sofa, Danno,” Steve replied, still smirking. “If you stay, you’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Babe, don’t be silly, you need your sleep just as much as I do,” Danny protested.

“Yeah, I do,” Steve admitted. “And if you’re on the sofa, I’m not gonna sleep.” He was grinning slyly. “You stay, you sleep in my bed," he paused for a breath. "With me.” And, there. He’d said it. He’d actually said it, and he felt terrified, and exhilarated, and nervous, and excited, and giddy.

Danny’s mouth had dropped open at some point there, and the cutest blush was tinting his cheeks, and Steve just wanted to pinch them. Danny closed his mouth, biting his lower lip, and swallowed slowly, nodding. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done exactly that, oh, about a hundred times? They’d just never talked about it before. And, ostensibly at least, one of them had always been injured or sick.

They set about getting ready for bed, and considering neither of them did anything they hadn’t done before too many times to count—though never together—it felt new and strange and, well, kind of wonderful. Danny’d long ago left a tooth brush in Steve’s bathroom. After one too many nights he'd wound up sleeping next to Steve or on the sofa, after an injury or after a near miss by some crazed Five-0 hating gunman, he'd given in to the inevitable and started leaving things at Steve's house. Danny’d also left pajamas and a change of clothes in Steve’s closet. He hadn’t minded borrowing clothes from Steve. He knew Steve liked it, and he did too, but there was something in the statement of leaving his own things that he’d liked in some weird primal way.

For his part, Steve loved that Danny had been leaving things at his place. He liked that it proved what Danny was aware of, even if he was struggling against admitting it. Each time Danny left something else, Steve counted it as a victory, not just in getting Danny in his life, in his house, but in getting Danny to settle in, to admit that Hawaii was Home. Steve had a soft spot for all things about Danny giving in to that inevitability. It made him warm with happiness.

Once they were both in bed, the lay there, kind of stiffly, uncertain what to do. They were used to comforting each other— when they wound up in bed together, one of them was fairly clearly in need of cuddling, or soothing, or warming, or  _something_. Their hands found each other, under the covers, and Steve smiled when Danny sighed as they squeezed their fingers together tightly. He turned to look at Danny, and he knew he was smirking, but he’d imagined this so often, it was hard not to.

Danny saw the smirk and blushed at it, but then pulled himself closer into Steve’s side, sighing again as he settled his head against Steve’s shoulder. “’Night, babe,” he whispered.

“Sleep tight, Danno,” Steve responded softly, the smirk clear in his tone.

At some point in the night, led either by their habits or their dreams, maybe a little of each, they wrapped themselves around each other. First Steve holding Danny against him, Danny tucked perfectly into his side, like he just belonged there. Later, Danny curled against Steve’s back, nestling into his broad shoulders, Steve holding Danny’s hand to his chest like it was a security blanket.

In the morning, it was Steve who woke first, and found Danny tucked snugly against him, head slotted perfectly under his chin, and he just couldn’t resist pressing a soft hint of a kiss there. He breathed in the smell of Danny’s shampoo and hair gel, and just generally reveled in the closeness. He felt amazingly well rested. And maybe that was because he really hadn’t been hurt, and maybe it was because they, for once, hadn’t fought this thing between them, and maybe it was that Danny’s presence in his bed was so amazingly comforting and wonderful and just _right_.

As Danny began to stir, he pulled Steve’s arm more tightly to him, and kissed his hand. “’Morning, babe,” he mumbled, blearily. “Sleep ok?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, wonderingly. “Really well, you?”

“Me too,” Danny said, sounding so relaxed and happy, it just made Steve feel squishy.

“Mmmm,” Steve replied. “So, not such a bad idea, huh, Danno?” He bit back the smirk. Just slightly.

Danny turned over to face him. His smile was so warm and loving, and with the morning sunlight, he practically glowed. Steve’s heart thrummed and he couldn’t keep from thinking that this was how he wanted to start every day.

“I dunno, babe,” Danny smiled. “I think we need to test it to be sure. Again tonight, and the next night, and maybe the next, you know, just to make sure.”

Steve bit his lip to keep from smirking. “Ok, Danno. Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter doesn't follow in the same timeline as this one.... But I'm definitely wanting to write a continuation of this..... (I'll come back and say which chapter it is when I wind up doing that....)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the same timeline as the last chapter. I don’t think you’ll mind....

Steve opened his eyes slowly. The light in the room was dim, which was a very good thing, as his head hurt horribly. He heard the soft beepings of the monitoring machines, and they sounded reasonably content, so he assumed he was mostly ok. He took a deep breath, and it didn’t hurt too badly, so he relaxed. And then he felt it. A warmth, soft and protective, at his side. He looked down and saw Danny’s head, arms pillowed beneath it, resting on the edge of the bed, resting up against his side. His breath hitched, and crap he must have hit his head harder than he’d thought, because his eyes went all blurry... oh. Yeah. He was crying. Well, that was interesting. He reached a hand out, and placed it carefully on top of the sleeping head.

He tried to remember what had happened, but it was all very hazy. There’d been a chase, first by car, then on foot, and he’d lost Danny somewhere along the way, and there’d been some sort of crash or collapse or explosion or something, and then Danny had been there, and the look in his eyes... he drew a sharp breath at the memory, and that _did_ hurt... it had been gut wrenching, that look. Absolutely went directly to his heart. And Danny had tried to say something, but he couldn’t hear him, and Danny started to yell frantically, and Steve didn’t know what he was saying, but he wanted to tell him something.... But he couldn’t remember what. And then, darkness.

The next thing he remembered was waking up here, with Danny by his side. He sobbed slightly at that thought. Danny, always, here. Always by his side when he woke up from being hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up after having been hurt and not found Danny next to him. Or at least nearby. But lately, right next to him. Touching him, even, as though he had some protective power by contact. That was so like Danny, always tactile, always needing touch. He laughed softly to himself at that, because while it was Danny who initiated it, Steve had grown quite accustomed to it, had begun to expect it even. And, yeah, ok, to crave it. Steve sighed, but maybe because his head was so sore, he didn’t try to push the thought away, didn’t try to ignore it, to pretend it was anything other than what it had become so clear it was. And suddenly, he remembered what it was he’d wanted to tell Danny.

He bit his lip on the smile, and more tears formed in his eyes, and he felt a wave of nausea that maybe was due to his head and maybe due to the pull of the things he needed to tell Danny, the things he needed to say, the things he needed to  _show_. And maybe Danny’d felt that same wave, because he started to stir beneath Steve’s hand. Steve pulled his hand away as Danny moved to sit up, and the first thing Steve noticed was that Danny’s eyes were red, there were dark circles under those sweet blue eyes, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen Danny’s hair more of a mess.

“Hey, babe,” Danny whispered, hoarsely.

“Hey,” Steve whispered back, smiling. “Sorry about that,” he started, but Danny waved him off.

“Eh,” he said, lightly, “I’m getting used to it.”

They laughed softly, but Steve’s head protested, and he grimaced.

“Easy there, babe,” Danny said, moving closer. “That was quite the fall you took.”

Steve nodded slightly, then tried to move. He wanted—needed—more contact. He scooted himself as far over in the bed as he could, and gestured for Danny to crawl up next to him. Danny smiled, and Steve thought he saw his eyes glisten before he started to blink, to clear them, but he very carefully pulled himself up into the bed next to Steve. He nestled against Steve’s side like he belonged, and Steve sighed contentedly.

“Thank you, Danny,” Steve said, into Danny’s hair. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to say it here... but he needed to say it soon, because he was feeling like his chest was going to burst with the intensity of it. He was certain Danny had to feel it too, with his head resting on Steve’s chest. He hoped they could get out of there fast, but he was afraid he was going to have to hold it all in for a while longer. He sighed. He’d been holding it in for so long already, surely he could wait. After a while, he felt Danny slip back into sleep, and he was a bit drowsy himself, but just as he was starting to drift off, a nurse came in. She took one look at the two of them, smiled, and turned back around, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. Steve made a note to send the ward nurses flowers and baked goods... lots of baked goods, then fell asleep with a smile on his face.

When he awoke next, he felt cold, and saw that Danny had gone from his side. He felt a pang at that, but then he heard voices in the hall.

“... I realize that, but I also know that he’s going to do so much better once he _is_ home, and frankly, I’m quite used to taking care of him when he’s like this.” Danny’s voice was equal parts pleading, confident, and that special quavering tone Steve had come to associate with things Danny felt especially strongly—especially _emotionally_ —about. He smiled warmly and found he was holding his breath, waiting for the answer.

“Ok, I’ll see what I can do,” came the reply, and Steve recognized the voice of Danny’s favorite nurse. Steve sometimes wondered how much of a crush she had on Danny, and tried not to be jealous, but if it got him out of here sooner, he was grateful.

Danny walked back into the room, and saw that Steve was awake. “How you feeling, babe?” He asked.

“Better,” Steve replied. “But I’ll be even better when we get out of here,” and yeah, he realized he said “we.”

Danny caught it too, and smiled. “I’m working on it, babe. I’m working on it.”

Steve’s heart melted at how Danny had known he would need to get out as soon as possible, that he would do better to heal at home than here. Plus, then he could say all the things he wanted to say to Danny. _At home_. Rather than at the hospital. Although, he stopped himself from laughing, because there would be something fitting about that. But, no. It was something to be done at home. He sighed. “Thanks, Danno,” he said, smiling fondly at his partner.

*

Danny was a pro at getting Steve settled. He moved about the room expertly, fluffing pillows, straightening the blankets, placing a glass of water and the remote within reach, and Steve’s phone was nowhere to be seen, so Steve knew Danny was screening his calls as well.

“Want something to eat, babe?” Danny asked, evidently satisfied that everything else was in order.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Steve decided. His stomach was all a flutter, and maybe food would help calm it.

“How about some soup to start,” Danny said. “Then if you do ok with that, I’ll get us some take out later.”

Steve smiled. Danny always preferred to get take out, when he was responsible for food, and Steve’d teased him about it once, long ago, but he’d since come to realize it was more than a little in part because Danny couldn’t focus on cooking when he was worrying about Steve. It was just one of the many little things like that… that had wormed their way into Steve’s heart. “Sounds great, Danno.”

Danny went downstairs to heat up the soup, and Steve tried to calm his nerves. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, and by the time Danny came back up, he was feeling considerably better.

Danny had a mug of soup on the tray, along with some water, a glass of whiskey (for himself, Steve imagined), and he was fairly certain he smelled mint chocolate.

While Steve ate the soup, Danny sipped his whiskey, and something about the way Danny was sitting—at the foot of the bed, facing Steve, watching him... made Steve suspect Danny knew he had something on his mind.

And, sure enough, when he finished the soup (“Thanks, Danno,” “Sure thing, babe.”), Danny put the tray on the dresser, along with his own drink, and sat back down, looking expectantly at Steve.

Steve felt his cheeks heat, and he ducked his head. “Am I that transparent?” He asked.

Danny smirked. “Yeah, babe.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “What is it, my face?”

Danny smiled. “Yep. You’ve had ‘I want to tell Danny something’ face on since you woke up.”

“That why you got me out of there so fast? How’d you manage that by the way?”

“Uh-uh-uh, my secret methods for getting you out of the hospital are mine alone.” Another smirk.

Steve shook his head slightly. “She has a crush on you, you know....”

Danny grinned wolfishly. “I know, babe. But I’m immune to that.”

Steve blushed. And then he remembered something. “When I fell... you were yelling at me... what’d you say?”

It was Danny’s turn to blush, and Steve wondered at that. “Oh, the usual,” he smiled. “Probably called you a stupid oaf, something about procedure, you know.” But Steve could tell he was lying.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, squinting slightly at Danny as if he could see the truth if he looked hard enough.

“Ok, babe,” Danny prompted. “I got you home. Out with it.”

“Is it?” Steve asked, and Danny looked confused.

“Is what what?”

“Is _this_ home?” Steve looked searchingly at Danny. “Can this be _your_ home?”

Danny tilted his head, a strange expression passing over his features. He swallowed. “Are you...?”

Steve held Danny’s eyes. “Danny, you know I am.”

Danny let out a breath that was half a sob, half a laugh.

“I need you with me. Not just when I’m hurt. You’re here half the time anyway. I want it to be _all_ the time.” He paused. “I  _need_ it to be all the time.”

Steve was amazed at how calm he sounded, how calm he felt. But he knew that it was right. There was no other way about it. He just couldn’t not have Danny at his side.

Danny was blinking rapidly, and Steve could tell it was only a matter of time before he had tears running down his cheeks. “Huh,” he finally said. “I did not see that one coming.” He huffed out a breath that was so full of emotion it went straight to Steve’s gut.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, and waited, patiently.

Danny sighed, tilted his head, and looked at Steve, tears making their way down his cheeks now. “Yeah, babe, it’s home.  _You’re_ home. Has been... for a long time now,” and he laughed a little bitterly at that.

Steve swallowed. “So, make it official.”

Danny was starting to physically quaver, and he’d closed his eyes. Steve could almost see the fight pass through, finally released, finally accepted... and when Danny opened his eyes, he didn’t even need to say anything. Steve knew. And he smiled, and let out a little huff of a laugh of relief, and he put out his arm, to call Danny against him, but Danny scooted carefully forward and leaned slowly into him, and gently, softly, kissed his lips. Steve’s eyes pricked with tears, and he found himself blinking to see Danny as he pulled back, smiling.

Sighing deeply, Danny settled easily against Steve’s side, where he belonged, and Steve wrapped his arm around him, and let out a huge breath of relief. _Finally_ , he thought. _I’m_ _Home_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, I got distracted from my posting plans by the burning need to write post-eps for the recent episodes! Ahem. Sorry again. :-)
> 
> Not the same timeline as the last chapter. Still doubting you'll mind.
> 
> NOTE ON CHAPTER RATING: we actually earn that M rating with this one......

“You can’t just break an arm like a normal human, can you? No, you have to completely shatter it so you require four hours of surgery. _Four_.” Danny sighed. He was exhausted. And stressed. And, like, empty. But at the same time, completely full of a swirl of emotions he just didn’t know how to express. Except with frustration.

“Danny,” Steve sighed, and he sounded much the same. “You did not have to stay, I could have taken a cab home.” Danny turned to look at him as though he had no idea about anything, and sometimes it felt that way. Fortunately, Steve read enough in that look to back off. “You’re right, Danno. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Danny replied, and he knew he sounded angry, but he was so far past caring, he didn’t even blink. “And for the record, I didn’t stay.”

Steve groaned, penny finally dropping. “You had Gracie today. Man, I’m sorry.” He turned to look at Danny, and Danny wasn’t sure he could look into those hazel eyes without crying at the moment, so he didn’t. “You really didn’t need to come back for me, Danny.” And Steve sounded almost perplexed, and that just frustrated Danny more.

“Yes, yes I did, Steven,” Danny said, too loudly, he knew. He sighed, and nearly banged his head on the steering wheel in exasperation. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered.

“It works just like any other vehicle,” Steve began, sounding bemused. “Turn it on, put it in gear, and drive....”

“Put it in gear,” Danny spat out, almost a hiss. “I’ll put you in…” he trailed off. He brought his hands up to his face.

“Danny,” Steve began, softly. “I’m sorry about the Camaro—”

Danny shook his head. “Shut up, just shut up.”

“But, Danny,” Steve tried again, and Danny turned to look at him sharply, and he gave up, one good arm flying up in surrender. “Ok, ok, buddy. I’ll just… ok.”

Danny sighed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, buddy,” Steve returned, fondly.

“No,” Danny replied, firmly. And he met those eyes, because he had to, because he didn’t know what else to say, and he needed Steve to get it before he simply broke. “ _I love you_.” And Steve looked like the whole world just fell out from beneath him, and Danny was afraid for a moment he might pass out. “Whoa, there babe, easy,” he said, leaning towards Steve to steady him. “I’m sorry, I just....” And Steve stopped him with a kiss.

“You’re sorry?” Steve whispered as he pulled back. “You tell me you love me and then you apologize?” He sounded… well, strange. But, there’d been the kiss, so it couldn’t be all bad... Danny was perplexed.

“Um,” Danny replied, and Steve leaned in to kiss him again, and this time, Danny dissolved into it with a soft moan.

“ _I love you too_ , you frustrating, aggravating, annoying....” Steve trailed off into another kiss.

“That’s really nice, Steven,” he said, on a slight laugh, but he at least didn’t feel like he was going to implode any more.

“Well,” Steve said, thoughtfully, “that’s how you usually talk to me, so I figured it’s how you express affection,” and he ended on a smirk, of course he did, but this one had a different edge to it than his smirks typically did, and Danny wasn’t quite sure yet what that was, but, he thought, he really looked forward to finding out... and then Steve interrupted the thought: “So, uh, do you think you can figure out how to drive my truck? Because I really don’t want our first time to be in the hospital parking lot....” And, yeah, Danny knew what the edge was. _Heat_.

He actually blushed as he turned the truck on and began to pull out. Steve put his good hand out to stop him, and leaned in for another kiss.

“Just... one for the road....” And he smirked after, and let his hand linger on Danny’s thigh. This was going to be an awfully long ride home, Danny thought.

Turns out it wasn’t. It was late enough that there wasn’t much traffic, and Steve’s hand, hot on Danny’s leg, kept him occupied. And, Steve leaned in for little kisses at each red light, so Danny didn’t even mind those. Still, he was relieved when they made it to Steve’s place. They barely made it inside the front door before Steve was pressing Danny back up against the door, whispering “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” and kissing him soundly. Steve was shockingly capable with just one good arm, and Danny didn’t know why he was surprised. Danny whimpered in response, and oh, boy, was this going to be how he’d become with Steve? Whining and whimpering?

“Upstairs,” he replied. “ _Now_.”

Steve smirked in response. “Yes, sir.”

Once they got into Steve’s room, Steve sat on the edge of his bed, and pulled Danny to him. “Careful your arm, babe,” Danny laughed as Steve grabbed forcefully, and again, how did he have so much strength in just one arm?

“I don’t care about my arm,” Steve practically growled. “I’ve just been told my best friend is in love with me, and nothing is going to keep me from what I’ve only dreamed about.”

Danny blushed. “You’ve dreamed about this?”

“Frequently,” Steve responded, breathlessly. “Want me to show you?”

Danny thought he might pass out. “Yes, please.”

Steve stood up, and with one hand, began undoing the buttons of Danny’s shirt. Danny laughed, low in his throat. “Somehow I thought you’d be a rip-the-shirt-off kind of guy.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I can be,” he replied, tone dripping with honey. “But this, I want to savor.” And, as he looked like he wanted to lick every inch of chest he exposed, Danny believed him. But Danny was beginning to feel a tad impatient, and he might have let out a small noise of frustration.

“Always in a hurry,” Steve whispered. “You need to learn to savor things,” and he demonstrated by standing back to just  _look_ at Danny’s bare chest. “God, you’re beautiful.” Danny laughed. Steve looked a little annoyed at that. “You are, and you don’t get it, and it makes me so angry.” As if to prove his point, he bent and nipped at Danny’s neck, then pulled back to look in his eyes with such fire, Danny almost flinched. “You, Daniel,” he breathed, “are beautiful.” Danny managed a small groan, and felt like he wasn’t going to be able to stand for very much longer.

Fortunately, Steve either could tell, or was growing impatient himself, because he took a step back and said “You’re going to have to help me with this,” and gestured to his cast. Together they managed to get Steve’s shirt off without causing too much pain, and they stood there in the moonlight, bare chests heaving, fingers tingling with anticipation, eyes dark with longing.

Danny moved first, and Steve laughed, low and sweet and loving. He pressed into Steve’s chest, mindful of the cast, and wrapped one arm around to grab his ass, pulling Steve against him. Steve smirked, and before Danny knew what was happening, he had tumbled them onto the bed, Danny falling on top of him and protesting, laughingly.

“Please be careful of your arm, babe,” he said. “I do _not_ want to have to explain to the nice doctors why you need four more hours of surgery.”

Steve laughed, “Ok, Danno.”

Danny leaned back on an elbow and admired Steve by the moonlight that was streaming in the window. He shook his head, bemusedly. “Did I mention I love you?” He asked.

Steve smiled, but it was another new look, something Danny couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it was almost sad. He tilted his head, and looked more closely into Steve’s eyes. “That part’s hard for you, isn’t it?”

Steve started to make the obvious joke, but one look from Danny cut him off.

“Yeah,” he sighed. And he was getting a little of that deer in the headlights look, so Danny leaned in to kiss him.

“That’s ok, babe,” he whispered. “I know it won’t be easy. Nothing with you is. I don’t expect that.” Steve looked like he was going to protest, so Danny put a finger to his lips. “But I’m going to be wordy. I’m going to tell you I love you. A lot. And you’re going to have to be ok with it.”

Steve closed his eyes and nodded, and Danny was fairly sure he would see tears when they opened, so he leaned in to kiss the corners of Steve’s eyes, then fell (carefully) on top of him, pressing his weight into Steve, and showing him, with his body, what he’d already told him with his words. He knew that for now, this would be Steve’s more comfortable area of expressing his emotions, and he gave him permission, with his kisses, to do just that. Fortunately, Steve’s Ninja SEAL skills took over, and he was right there with Danny, and, freed by it, he moved with comfort and ease that utterly belied that this was their first time. But then, if Danny thought about it, they knew each other’s bodies so well by this point, from proximity, from reading each other. They both were rather tactile, with each other at least, always had been, and somehow, as if their bodies had always known it, they just fitted together perfectly. Danny’d had enough first times to know it was usually awkward and clumsy and messy, but with Steve it was anything but. He already knew how Danny’s body aligned with his, and lying down was a little different from standing, but not a lot, and it was almost as though they’d done this before. Together they got the rest of their clothes off, Danny wasn’t even sure how, it just happened, and they were pressing together, as if it was simply the next step in what they’d done so many times before with the hugs and the embraces, and it didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel strange, it just felt right. No one would ever accuse Danny of not being emotional. But he’d never been this emotional about sex before. It wasn’t just years of longing and resisting and fantasizing being released in Steve’s bed. It was so much more. It was about home, and _ohana_ , and partners, and friends, and belonging. It was about _them_. And the great big complicated mess they’d always been, and still would be. And it wasn’t something new, it was just finally a fuller expression of what had always been. And Danny thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced.

“Hey, Danno,” Steve called, as he slid his fingers through his chest hair and up to grab the back of his neck, pulling him into a hot, wet kiss. “Come back to bed, buddy.”

Danny laughed, and shook himself out of his thoughts, pressing his hips down into Steve’s. “Ok, babe.”

Steve smirked. “That’s better,” and moved his hand down to grab Danny’s ass, and pull it against him. “So much I want,” he whispered into Danny’s ear. “But I need both hands,” and he let out a little growl of frustration. “Your timing sucks, Danny,” he rasped out as he thrust up.

Danny grunted, and pulled Steve onto his side, his good arm beneath him, injured arm resting free. “We have all the time in the world, babe. We’ll get to all of it. Right now, just let me....” and he reached down to grab them both, and Steve groaned into Danny’s mouth.

“I love you, Danny. I love you so much,” he paused for a shaky breath. “ _I always have_.” And the weight of that confession pushed Danny over the edge, which in turn made Steve gasp and follow.

Danny realized he was crying when Steve started kissing away his tears. He nestled into Danny’s face. “Hey, babe,” Danny whispered, nuzzling back. Suddenly mindful of the late hour as well as everything Steve had been through that very long and eventful day, Danny got up to get a towel to clean them up. Steve was half asleep by the time he had, but the look on his face was so much more peaceful than it usually was when he was injured, and Danny smiled. He pulled the quilt up over them as he crawled into bed next to his partner. Turning on his side to face Steve, he lay there, watching him in the moonlight, until he could resist the pull of sleep no longer and drifted off with a smile on his face.

When he awoke to his phone ringing, it was daylight out, and the sun was streaming through the windows, falling warmly on the bodies that lay, entwined, on the bed.

Danny picked up his phone.

“Hey, Kono,” he said, smiling.

“Steve’s not answering his phone,” she began.

“I know,” Danny replied. “I turned it off.”

She laughed. “So, he’s ok?”

Danny looked over at his sleeping partner, who looked sated, drowsy, and somewhat blissed out. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, he’s ok.” He was fairly sure she bit her lip to keep from reacting.

“That’s good,” she said. “Keep us posted.” But she didn’t manage to hang up before she called out “Chin!” And Danny groaned as he put his phone down, and when he turned back around, Steve was watching him, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, that’s going to be interesting,” he huffed out a fond laugh.

Steve just smirked. “Come here, Detective,” he drawled. “You’ve got some more work to do.” And he pulled Danny in for a lingering kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s not hurt, but he does need some care... fortunately, Danny can tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try to avoid switching from one person’s perspective to the other in the same story... it makes me dizzy. But this story seemed to demand it. I hope it’s not too cumbersome.

Steve was sitting in his chair, at the edge of the water, contemplating the sun set. Well, he was staring out, across the water, and the sun was setting. The fact that he wasn’t paying particular attention to any of the glorious aspects of a Pacific Ocean sunset is really neither here nor there, except for the fact that it indicated somewhat the state of his mind. Which is to say, neither peaceful nor contemplative. Truth be told, he was a bit of a mess—although, Steve McGarrett as a mess was still a whole lot more put together than, say, Danny Williams, even on a good day. But he was a great big tumble of emotions which he couldn’t begin to sort out. And, let’s be honest, this is Steve we’re talking about, so he wasn’t exactly used to trying. Which is why he was sitting, looking in the vague direction of a frankly stunning sunset, and noticing it not one bit.

Danny spotted him from the lanai. Steve made quite the cutting figure, silhouetted like that against the brilliant sky, and it took Danny’s breath away. So, he stood there a while, admiring the view—both of man and sky. He’d been concerned when Steve hadn’t answered his phone, and he’d come over to check on him, knowing Steve had spent the day by himself, which didn’t always go too well for the Navy man. By the look of things from Danny’s perspective, he’d been right to worry. Anyone else would have looked lost in thought. Steve looked like he was drowning in it. Danny drew a deep breath and steeled himself, gripping the six pack of Longboards more tightly in his hand, before heading slowly towards Steve.

“Lovely sunset, babe,” Danny called while he was only half way across the lawn, to give Steve a chance to be startled and pull himself together before Danny made it to him. He was glad he had, as Steve practically jumped out of his skin. It only took him a couple paces before he could respond, however, which Danny took as a good sign.

“Hey, Danny, what’re you doing here?” He stood to hug his partner as he neared. Danny held up the pack of beers. “Ah, good man.”

“I did try to call….” Danny offered.

Steve cringed. “Sorry, man. I came out for a quick swim, which turned into a long swim, which turned into sitting and watching the sunset.”

Danny was tempted to call bullshit, but knew that wouldn’t go over well with Steve, McGarrett-Men-Don’t-Talk-About-Emotions. So he sighed and handed Steve a beer as he sat down. “I can see why, babe, it’s gorgeous.”

Steve seemed surprised by that. “Yeah?” He asked, looking somewhat askance at Danny.

“Um, yeah, babe,” Danny replied, and he would have laughed if he didn’t know the ditzy thing on Steve was a sign of emotional confusion.

“Huh,” Steve responded thoughtfully. “I guess it is.” He smiled, clinked beers with Danny, and settled back in his chair considerably more relaxed than he’d been before.

As it sometimes did, Danny’s presence had a clarifying effect on Steve’s mind. Sometimes it had the exact opposite effect, of course, because sometimes Danny was like a fireball of emotions that set all of Steve’s thoughts a jumble till he didn’t know which end was up. But sometimes, especially when Danny was calm and at ease, as he was tonight, his presence at Steve’s side had a centering quality to it. Like gravity, that pulled at Steve, till he settled into orbit around Danny. That was how it felt a lot of the time to Steve. Danny was a lot like the sun. Beyond the obvious golden, glowing associations, or the fiery flaming hot temper comparisons. Steve’s life seemed to simply revolve around Danny.

He wouldn’t say that he _fought_ it, per say. But he probably had to admit that he didn’t fully embrace it either. He sometimes gave in to it, and he sometimes fought it. It kind of just depended on how he was doing, and how strong Danny’s gravitational pull was at the moment. Right now Steve was having a hard time not being pulled into Danny’s orbit, and he was too muddled to be able to try to resist.

“How was your day, babe?” Danny asked. “Get everything done that you wanted to?”

Steve grunted. He’d had a rather overly ambitions list of chores for the weekend, and he’d got a few of them done slightly poorly before he’d become totally distracted by the swirl of thoughts in his head and attempted to drown them by swimming. It hadn’t, obviously, worked.

“Sorry, babe,” Danny sympathized. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Steve smiled somewhat weakly at Danny. “Yeah,” he said softly, “maybe tomorrow.”

They sat, sipping their beers, and not saying anything—not thinking much either—till the sun had been down for quite a while and it was nearly pitch black. Then Danny stood, and said “Come on, babe, let’s go make some dinner.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that sprung to his lips at that. “You brought food?”

Danny nodded.

“Danno, that’s....”

“What?” Danny said, slight hint of a warning tone in his voice.

Steve bit back his smirk. “Thanks, Danny,” he settled for as the safest option, but “adorable” had been what he’d thought.

It was just simple food that even Danny could manage without causing a fire. Pasta and a sauce that Danny admitted Grace had made and left batches of in his freezer. Steve heated the sauce and cooked the pasta while Danny made a salad. Steve gave Danny a hard time about his food-preparation skills, but he was actually surprisingly comfortable with his salad making ability, and it amused Steve to steal carrots while Danny was slicing them. He got swatted for his troubles, but he didn’t mind. The simple domestic act was soothing, and it almost seemed to Steve that it was helping sort out the swirl of stuff that was filling his mind.

They wound up sitting on the sofa after dinner. Danny was maybe feeling a little sentimental, because he put on some episodes of “CHiPs” that Steve had DVR’ed, and, either in a move to keep Steve from returning to the muddle of thinking in which he had found him, or maybe in some sort of effort at getting him to do something about it, he pulled Steve against him in a frankly forceful manner, and Steve wondered how much Danny could sense of what was going on in his head.

Regardless, they were both rather sleepy by that point, and it wasn’t terribly surprising that they drifted off after not too long a while.

Danny woke, when Steve turned the TV off, well, of course he did, and Steve scolded himself for not thinking of that.

“Hey, babe,” Danny whispered. “You should go up to bed. I’m gonna just sleep right here,” he said, stretching himself out, and Steve either had sorted through his feelings or had just thrown them all overboard, because suddenly, there was only one thing he could possibly do—only one way to respond.

Steve swallowed around the emotions swelling up from his chest, and he leaned forward and kissed Danny.

Danny startled a little, and how could he not, he’d been half asleep, and Steve pulled back just a bit, and caught Danny’s eyes, which had gone wide with shock... and maybe something else.

“Babe, are you sure?” He asked, his voice taut with restrained emotion. And Steve realized Danny probably did know what Steve had been thinking. He just didn’t trust that Steve had come to the kiss for the right reasons.

Steve shook his head. “Danny, I’m not sure about anything lately,” and he swallowed again. “But I just can’t not kiss you any longer.”

Danny huffed out a soft laugh. “Not a bad line, babe,” Danny said sweetly. “But I need to know you’re really wanting this, because I can’t just kiss you and then go back,” and the expression on his face... that frown, so creased, Steve just wanted to soothe it away with kisses.

Steve nodded. “I know, Danny.”

“This is...” Danny sighed. “This is big. This is...” he took a deep breath. He was staring at Steve’s lips, and licking his own, and Steve couldn’t help it, he smirked.

“Danny.” Steve took a deep breath, and took Danny’s hands in his. “Look. The thing is, we’re a bit of a mess. We have been from day one, and I don’t see that changing. But it’s our mess, and I cannot imagine my life any other way. I just can’t.” He paused for a breath and a smile. “So, no, I’m not certain. But we have to try or I’m going to just fall apart.”

“Oh my God, where _do_ you get your lines from?” And it was half a laugh and half a sob, and Danny’s small amount of resistance ability had dissolved, which was probably inevitable anyway. He leaned in to kiss Steve. “Ok,” he sighed as he pulled back. “Yeah, ok.”

“Will you stay?” It was almost a whisper. Danny wasn’t really sure if he’d imagined it. He tilted his head and looked more closely at him. “Please?” Steve added.

“Of course, babe. Of course.”

But instead of letting Danny settle back on the sofa, Steve stood, pulling Danny up with him, and led him upstairs. Once they got to Steve’s room, he turned down the quilt, settled on the bed, and held out his hand for Danny to follow. Danny hesitated, and Steve whispered softly, “Just sleep. Let’s just sleep. We can talk in the morning, ok?”

Danny nodded, and climbed into bed, curling up against Steve with a sigh and the slightest, nervous, anxious laugh. He reached up for one more kiss, then took a deep breath. Steve responded by wrapping his arm snuggly around Danny and shushing him, and scooting his body against Danny’s, as if proving they were meant to be together like this by pointing out just how splendidly their bodies fit together. Danny let out a small huff of a laugh at that, so Steve knew Danny got his point.

“Ok,” Danny whispered. “Sleeping.”

“I love you,” Steve whispered back.

“I know, babe,” Danny replied, and his tone was sad but sweet and just a little bit hopeful. “I love you too.”

And Steve shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and let a smile play across his lips as he drifted, somewhat restlessly, off to sleep, and the anticipation of what the morning might bring.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bitty tidbit of post Episode 15 comfort.
> 
> No physical injuries, but emotional ones, and about being there when someone needs you....

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Steve yelled and Danny actually flinched. “I should have seen that coming, how could I not have? How could I not have made absolutely sure?”

“Ok, Steven, just... calm down.” And as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished them back in. _That_ _had_ so _not been the right thing to say, dammit_.

Steve, fortunately, just glared briefly at Danny, then turned back to his frantic... whirl of whatever.

Danny took a deep breath, and held back all the things he wanted to say, like how could anyone have possibly survived that, let alone well enough to just walk away; and, it was natural that he’d been more concerned about Chin, who, let’s face it, was in pretty bad shape himself.

And then, Danny turned to blaming himself. He hated that he’d not been there. Hated it so much on so many levels, and he was trying not to freak out that he was never going to be able to be ok with that. The only way would be... if they found Gabriel before anything else happened. But, the fact that Steve had been there without him, oh, it just made Danny want to throw up. And, ok. Maybe he was just a tiny bit nervous that Steve would feel the same way. That, somehow, Steve would connect Danny’s having not been there with how that whole awful day had gone.

Yeah. Actually. That was rather a big fear in the mind of Danny Williams at the moment. He muttered his own curses silently, as Steve continued to swear and generally give off the impression he was doing a really fantastic job of not breaking things.

Eventually, Steve wore himself out a bit. After a while, Danny realized Steve had been quiet for some time. Then, Danny noticed that Steve was watching him. Really intently. He startled a little, then looked closely back at Steve. “What, babe?” He asked, softly, concerned.

“Danny....” Steve whispered. And the expression in his eyes was heart wrenching. Danny looked away. He heard Steve sigh, and thought it sounded a little like _he_ did when he was mentally kicking himself. “Danny.” This time it was more insistent, and Danny knew Steve wanted him to look him in the eye. Still, he kept his back turned. Steve walked over to him, and Danny felt himself being wrapped up in a huge hug. “Danny, I do _not_ blame you, ok? I never could do that.”

Danny huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, but you blame yourself, and I blame me for not being there, ok? I should always be there.”

Steve sighed and held Danny tighter. “You can’t always be there, Danny, none of us can.” He let out a deep breath. “But,” he whispered. “You’re here now. And, I am grateful.”

Danny twisted in Steve’s arms so he was facing him, and pulled back to look in his eyes. “So let me help.” Steve blinked, and clearly wanted to look away, but held his ground, forcibly, and kept looking in Danny’s eyes. “Let me help, Steven. Let me in, let me share it. Do not try to shoulder it all alone.” Steve swallowed, but nodded slightly, and let Danny go.

Taking Steve’s hand, Danny led him to the sofa. “Gabriel Wainwright is not your fault. Ok? He was a thing long before Five-0, long before you were here. This is Chin’s battle, and yeah, we’re his team, we’re his _ohana_ , and we’re in this together, but it is not your sole responsibility, you can’t possibly take that on.” Steve tried to pull his hand away, but Danny just held it tighter. “I get that you want to. I do. But you can’t.” He sighed, but then smiled. “Chin handled him quite nicely on his own, didn’t he.” Steve reluctantly nodded slightly. “You gotta give Chin credit, ok? He knows this is on him. Let him shoulder that, ok? Don’t try and take it from him. Help him, share it, but he knows it’s his burden, and it doesn’t help him if he feels like you’re blaming yourself.” Steve sighed. “So, yell at me, that’s fine. Get it out here, whatever you need to do. I can take it.”

Steve smiled at that, and allowed himself to fall against Danny, who wrapped a comforting arm around him, and pulled them back against the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“That’s better,” Danny cooed. “Now. Can we please order pizza, because I’m starving.”

“Pineapple?” Steve asked, hopefully.

Danny groaned. “Only on your half, babe.”

And Steve smiled and stood up as Danny hit speed dial, and what did it even say that Danny had pizza at Steve’s house on his speed dial? He pushed that thought aside and grinned when Steve came back to the sofa with beers. It wasn’t much. But it was being together, and that was what counted.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been listening to Five for Fighting’s “All For One” too much.... Some day I’m going to write an actual post S5E7 story, because Danny *so* stayed with Steve after that. I even have bits written, but, uh, I’ve been a little busy with a certain Gloomy story..... ;-) At any rate, my feelings needed this for some reason (evidently I haven’t put Danny through enough lately...um...).
> 
> Anyhow! RacoonSA, StBridget, Sophie23... this one’s for you, and everyone else who has been loving D&G but missing BYS. I’ve got a lovely longer BYS I’m working on as well... but I wanted to have something to post this week! Also, I plan to post a "The Best Medicine" on Wednesday....
> 
> And, for those who are waiting for it: Part 6 of "Doom and Gloom" will most likely start on Friday. It's three chapters, and will be posted Friday, Sunday, and Tuesday... hopefully! :-)

Danny let his tears fall. It felt a hell of a lot better than trying not to cry, and he’d been trying not to cry all day, and he was just _done_. Steve was finally sleeping, and though Danny was fairly sure he was going to have to burn his sheets after, he was just so grateful that Steve had fallen asleep, if only because Danny didn’t think he could have taken the look that had been in those hazel eyes any longer. There were too many memories, too many times Steve’s face had been that beaten, too many times the man Danny admired as being so strong—the man who always picked Danny up when he fell—hadn’t been able to stand on his own. Danny’s heart was permanently scared with those memories, and so if the tears fell out of proportion for this day’s injuries, it was because they were reminding him of all the others. He shuddered slightly, and wiped the tears—around his face, really, more than out of his eyes. His anger over what had happened that day had been tamped down by the severity of Steve’s injuries. “This is why we wait for backup, Steven,” was all he had said on that front. It was all he’d been able to say, when he’d seen Steve, lying on the ground, battered and bloody. Steve’s favorite paramedic had patched him up enough for Danny to be able to take him home, though he shared a look with Danny that clearly said that Steve should spend the night in the hospital. They both knew that Steve was not going to allow that, so neither fought it. Danny sighed.

He’d gotten Steve as clean as he could, considering he could barely move, and he was all but naked in his bed, and maybe his blood was clotted and no longer dripping, but there was so much of it, Danny hurt thinking about it. Looking down at his own clothes, seeing far too much of his partner’s blood, he mentally added them to the “to burn” pile. He pressed his fingers to his eyes and thought about getting up to clean himself, but he didn’t think his legs would hold him, so he stayed in the chair by Steve’s bed and just watched him sleep. At least he looked somewhat peaceful, Danny thought. Compared to the way his face had been twisted in agony when Danny had finally found him, in the pile of rubble that was all that had been left of the shack in the woods where the terrorists had been hiding.

“Oh, Steven,” Danny whispered, and his voice, he noticed, sounded awful. Broken, battered—probably from the way he had yelled when he’d heard the explosion just moments after Steve had rushed headlong into the building, or maybe from the strain of holding back the tears and sobs that wanted so desperately to flow in the moments after that when he’d seen Steve. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his mind. Things were pushing at him, tugging, keeping him from being able to sweep his feelings under the rug like he always did when it came to the man in the bed at his side. He wasn’t sure he could do this again. Not while trying to hide how he felt. It had hurt so much, and he felt like he was just done trying to pretend. Almost as soon as he’d decided enough was enough, he fell, fitfully, awkwardly, asleep. Several times he started awake, from some dream of Steve—covered in blood, anguish in his eyes, pain written plainly on his face. Each time, Steve seemed to be sleeping somewhat peacefully, and Danny had eventually drifted back to sleep. Once, he jolted, and heard a sound.

“Danny....” Steve was mumbling in his sleep. “Danny... look out.” He was twisting, thrashing, just a little, but too much for his injuries. “Danny, get out of here....”

Danny sighed, and more tears fell. Always worried first about him. His heart broke at that because it made him feel so much more awful about not having been able to protect Steve like Steve always seemed to protect Danny—but then how could you possibly protect a man who insisted on running into buildings where explosives were being made by idiots who had a very limited grasp on chemistry, let alone common sense. Steve was moving enough that Danny was concerned about him opening some of his injuries, and he really didn’t think Steve could stand to lose any more blood. Hesitating only for a moment, Danny walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in. As soon as the bed dipped with his weight, Steve seemed to settle. Huffing out a slight laugh, Danny tried to get comfortable without disturbing Steve. He wound up curling on his side, facing Steve, and found he couldn’t get back to sleep. Something about being so close... and still not able to show his feelings. His heart was beating in his ears, he had to work to swallow. At any rate, he lay there, watching Steve breathe, flinching when he twitched or jolted in his sleep, gazing at his lashes as they fluttered against his bruised cheeks. The sky grew lighter, and just as it was about up, Steve’s eyes slowly opened. In one surprisingly smooth move, as though pulled by some subconscious knowledge that Danny was next to him, Steve turned to look in Danny’s eyes, which had begun to water again.

“Hey,” Danny whispered.

“Danny,” Steve rasped out, but he was smiling.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Danny sighed.

“Hey, buddy, I’m sorry,” Steve said, hoarsely.

“Good,” was about all Danny could manage.

Steve laughed, but then he stilled, and maybe it was something in Danny’s eyes, or maybe the fact that he was in Steve’s bed, or maybe it was something else—maybe Steve had realized something of his own. But whatever it was, Steve was moving towards Danny, and before Danny knew it, he was being kissed, and he sobbed out his relief into Steve’s mouth, and scooted, as carefully as he could, closer to Steve, dragging his fingers through Steve’s blood-coated hair in an attempt to ground himself, and also to keep Steve from moving too much. He pulled back with a breathless gasp.

“Babe,” he huffed out, half exasperation, half longing.

“Danny, I really am sorry. I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry....” And Danny, as much as he loved hearing that, wanted—no, needed—another kiss, so he stopped Steve’s apology with his lips.

“I just,” he started when he pulled back enough to breathe, “I can’t do that again without admitting _this_.”

Steve smiled—ok, more of a smirk. “I know.”

Danny let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Ok, good.” And more tears fell from his eyes, but he was smiling, and he moved forward for another kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I really worry about my feelings, but evidently they needed this. 
> 
> So, I do have another TBM and then another one of these coming up this week, then my hope is to start posting DG7 on the 14th. That's just a hope right now, as two of those chapters are still a mess.... But it's what I'm aiming for.......

Steve hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe he was too distracted, maybe he was focusing on the wrong thing, maybe he was just having an off day—there were certainly a number of reasons that might have been. Whatever the reason, he had not seen the shooter until it was too late. Hadn’t had time to react, had only time to think “oh shit,” before he was falling. He wasn’t sure how far he fell. It felt really far, but he didn’t think it was because he was still awake when he got to the bottom. But not for long. He was usually pretty calm when he got hurt—he was very used to it, and had survived a lot worse, so he wasn’t really predisposed to freaking out, but for some reason this time he felt absolutely terrified. He started to try and figure out why that might be, but didn’t get very far before he grew woozy and blurry and then it was all darkness.

He woke up a few times. Once when Kono found him, once in the ambulance, and once right before they put him under for surgery. Each time, that panic swirled to the surface, and try as he might he couldn’t figure out why.

The next time he woke up, he was in a quiet, softly lit room, with Kono at his side. He smiled at her, she rolled her eyes in response. “Stupid move, bossman, even for you,” she scolded. And his panic reached new heights. What the hell was wrong with him? Something wasn’t right. He tried to speak, but found he couldn’t find the words. Made an inventory of all his limbs and found them intact. So what the hell was....

Oh.

He actually felt moisture in his eyes. Suddenly he was really, really afraid that he was going to start bawling, right there, in front of Kono. She evidently suspected he needed a moment to collect himself, as she rose and said she’d go tell the nurse he was awake.

As soon as she left the room, he tried really hard to take a deep breath, to calm himself, to... something. It was not easy, but he did manage a few shaky breaths, got his pulse to slow so it wasn’t pounding in his ears, wiped his tears away, and told himself to pull it together. He looked at the empty chair at his side. The one Kono had been sitting in. Kono. Not Danny. Of course not Danny. How could he be there. He was on Maui. With Melissa. Right. Of course he was. He was on a much needed vacation with his girlfriend. Right.

Another tear fell from his eye, which he wiped away, just before the nurse came in to check on him. Which was probably the last thing he needed. Because it was Danny’s favorite nurse.

“Where’s your better half?” She asked, teasingly.

He managed a weak laugh. “He’s out of town,” he said, trying to not sound pathetic.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She turned from his chart to smile encouragingly at him, but he didn’t respond.

Tamping down the hope that swelled in his chest at the thought that Danny would come back, he told himself that was ridiculous. Danny’d been planning this trip for a month. He’d splurged on a really fancy, exclusive place that Melissa had heard about from her friends. He wouldn’t waste that, just because Steve had been shot. Again. Steve smiled as he heard Danny’s voice in his head, saying something snarky about needing something a lot more serious to get his attention.

“In the meantime,” the nurse continued. “You should really get some rest.”

Steve nodded and whispered “Thank you.” And then tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep. He kept tossing and turning—well, as much as he could—trying to get comfortable. Eventually he admitted it wasn’t physical discomfort that was disturbing him, but emotional. He could almost hear Danny laugh at that, which at least made him feel a little bit better. He did drift off for a little bit, although he almost woke up when he thought he heard Danny’s voice. Telling himself to pull it together, he sighed and forced himself back to sleep. At one point, he thought he smelled Danny, and he nearly scolded himself for being so fanciful, again forcing himself to remain sleeping. He finally fell into a restful slumber, and when he did awake, he turned to look at the chair beside the bed, telling himself not to get his hopes up, but his heart still sank when he saw it was empty.

But then he looked up, past the chair, to the seat by the window. And his heart nearly stopped. Sitting there, looking directly at him, with the strangest expression on his face, was Danny.

Steve was pretty sure he actually gasped. Keeping himself from reaching out, wanting desperately to draw Danny closer, Steve held as still as he could, and just looked.

Danny was rumpled, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, collar undone, shoes off... he looked, in short, completely wonderful. Steve could have stared at him like that for ever.

Without moving, not even to gesture, Danny spoke. “What the hell did you think you were doing, huh?” His words were angry, but his tone was surprisingly soft.

Steve closed his eyes, but didn’t respond.

Danny huffed out an exasperated laugh. “If you wanted me to come back from Maui, you could have just asked, you know.”

Steve’s eyes flew open. “Danny, I—“ but he stopped short at the look in Danny’s eyes.

“You could have just asked,” Danny said again, more softly, more... tenderly? Steve’s heart suddenly started racing again. But still Danny didn’t move.

“When did you...?” Steve whispered.

Danny glared at him. “As soon as I heard, you goof.” He sighed. “Melissa was pissed. I kind of think she’s never going to speak to me again. But, uh.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“So, how long..?” Steve asked.

“All night, babe,” Danny replied, and his tone was... Steve wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t angry, it was something a lot warmer. He swallowed.

“I thought I heard you....” Steve smiled. Then laughed a little nervous laugh. “I even thought I smelled....” He trailed off, embarrassed.

Danny grinned, and hid his face in his hands. “That’s sweet, babe.”

And finally, Danny got up and walked over to the bed. He stood there, looking down at Steve, and his eyes were watery and glistening.

Steve swallowed and felt moisture filling his own eyes again. “Danny....”

“Shhh,” Danny replied. And he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’m here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened. I hate that. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere, ok? So... just. Shhh.” And he kissed him again, and taking Steve’s hand in his, sat as close as he could, and laid his head down on the bed, and rubbed his thumb soothingly back and forth on Steve’s hand, sighing softly.

Closing his eyes, breathing in a shaky breath, Steve then breathed out. And finally, finally, he felt calm.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little sweet something my Gloomy feelings needed.... I think this is my first “established relationship”-ish BYS. I’m imaging this one as at the beginning of them being together, so, the weekend Steve had planned was going to be kind of a big deal. But then of course, the big goof goes and breaks his leg......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you waiting anxiously for Part Seven of "Doom and Gloom," I think I can finally, comfortably say, it will go up starting on the 14th. It's five chapters (the work week, again--Monday to Friday), and I'll post a chapter every other day, so it will be complete on the 22nd.

“Here you go, babe,” Danny said softly, handing Steve a beer, and sliding onto the sofa right next to him, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and leaning in, against Steve’s chest. Steve lifted his arm and wrapped it around Danny, holding him in place at his side.

“Thanks, Danny.”

“So, I guess our weekend of hiking and surfing and whatever else you had planned is out.” He’d tried to not sound relieved or excited, but he kind of was. Steve had planned an over-active weekend, and Danny had gone along with it because he loved him and would do what he wanted after the rough week they’d had—which had included _not_ catching Gabriel Wainwright once more—but now that Steve had hurt his leg, all of that was out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Danny,” Steve started, sounding sincerely apologetic. “I guess we’ll just have to watch movies, eat take out, and cuddle on the sofa.” He was smirking by the end, and Danny sat up and thought briefly about hitting him with a pillow, but decided on kissing him instead.

“I think I’ll manage,” he replied, once he’d pulled back.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, still smirking. “I dunno, Danny, I’m not going to be any use at all with this leg. You’re going to have to take care of me....”

“I already brought you a beer and kissed you,” Danny said, narrowly avoiding his own smirk. “What more could you possibly need?”

“You could feed me,” Steve started. “And, I’d like to get clean... before bed,” and Danny hadn’t yet found a way to resist that heated look Steve had started giving him when he suggested bed, so he wound up kissing him again. When he pulled back, they were both a bit breathless.

“Ok,” Danny sighed. “I’ll go order food. What do you want?”

Steve smirked. “You,” he replied, tauntingly.

“Stop it. You need food.”

Steve got this very strange look on his face, and Danny closed his eyes. “Oh, boy.” He opened them, but that look was still there. “Ok, what does _that_ face mean?” Danny asked, slowly, as though he didn’t really want to know.

“Ham and pineapple pizza?”

“Oh my God, you’re testing me.” Danny slumped back on the sofa. “Really?”

Steve bit his lip. “When I was a kid, and I broke my leg, we got pineapple and ham pizza,” he explained. And maybe he knew that was the only way he was going to get it, but Danny figured Steve would know that a story like that would work.

Shaking his head slightly, Danny muttered “So help me, if you ever break your leg on purpose to get pineapple on your pizza, I will break your other leg,” and got up to order pizza for Steve and Chinese for him, because no way was he eating pizza when there was pineapple in the room.

He brought more beer back with him, and grabbed the remote from Steve. He scrolled through the listings, looking for anything really sappy and romantic. It seemed only fair, if he was going to have to smell ham and pineapple pizza. He sighed, pressed play on something really awful, and snuggled up against Steve’s side, letting the strain he’d been ignoring seep out as his heart began to sync with Steve’s.

“Thanks, Danny,” Steve sighed, apparently either ignoring the content of what was playing on the TV, or just past caring. “I know it’s been a rough week, and I’m sorry. But you were great. Really got me through it. So, thank you.”

“Yeah, well, not completely through it intact, what with the broken leg and all, you big Neanderthal,” Danny sighed. “But, you’re welcome anyway, I guess.” And he tried to snuggle closer to Steve, which was pretty hard as he was already practically in his lap. “I guess in a way I’m glad you’ll have to take it easy for a bit. You need it. Been overdoing it as usual.”

Steve squeezed Danny even more tightly. “I will rest. As long as you rest with me. We’ve all been over doing it. Maybe a forced rest will be good. I just hope....”

Danny let out a breath. “I know, babe, I know. We’re all worried about Gabriel. Let’s just focus on getting better, and take what comes.”

Steve nodded, and they settled into not really paying attention to the movie.

When the pizza came, Danny thought about making a big deal about it, giving Steve a hard time, but the look on Steve’s face was too much for Danny’s heart, and he found he just enjoyed watching Steve be so simply happy. He sat and watched Steve gleefully eat the pizza, shaking his head slightly, lips pressed together to keep from smirking. Steve made one attempt to get Danny to try the abomination that shouldn’t be allowed to be called pizza, um... but Danny politely refused. Ok, ok, he threatened to break Steve’s arm. What do you expect? Danny’s food came shortly after that, and ignoring Steve’s death-glare, he ate it directly from the take out container, thereby skipping over the need to wash a dish, thank you very much.

They actually got swept a little bit up in the movie—turned out there was actual plot there somewhere, and a surprising ending that wasn’t horrifically sappy. Danny put the leftovers away, and when he walked back into the living room, Steve looked kind of pale and droopy.

“Hey, babe,” Danny whispered. “Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed, ok?”

Steve tried for a heated smirk, but was kept from it probably by the pain he had to be feeling by that point. Danny gave him a pill, then helped him up the stairs. Getting them both cleaned up exhausted Danny, and by the time he fell into bed, he was ready to fall swiftly asleep. Fortunately, Steve seemed to be resting ok, though he grunted a little as Danny settled in next to him.

“I love this,” Steve said on a sigh, once Danny was settled, with Steve wrapped around him, nestling into Danny’s neck, pressing kisses there. “I always want this.”

Danny turned over to kiss him, smiling through his exhaustion. “Good.”

“Thank you for the pizza,” Steve whispered.

Danny rolled his eyes. “That was not pizza, but you’re welcome, you big goof.”

“Danny. You know I love you, right?”

Danny smiled. “Yeah, babe. I know.”

“Good,” Steve said, as he was falling asleep.

Closing his eyes, and letting himself be grateful that it was just a broken leg this time, Danny whispered back. “I love you too, Steven.”


	19. Sushi Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny takes Steve out for sushi after Steve gets his arm in a cast. Because, that’s going to go well.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very little something my mind had fun with when I should have been writing DG8.....
> 
> So, yeah. I'm a week behind on posting.... DG8 has been kind of kicking my butt not to mention messing with my emotions. But, if you all cross your fingers, hopefully it will be ready for the weekend......
> 
> & I've got a lovely longer TBM "Date Night" for Wednesday. :-) 
> 
> Meanwhile, hope you enjoy this little tidbit!

“You know,” Danny mused, enjoying watching Steve flail in his attempts to use chopsticks with his left hand. “You maybe should have thought this through better....” Steve glared at Danny, who held up his hands in defense. “I’m simply pointing out that attempting to eat sushi with chopsticks while your arm is in a cast was maybe not the smartest idea you ever had, is all.”

Steve had managed to hold a piece of spicy tuna roll for long enough to dip it in soy sauce and almost make it to his mouth, before he dropped it and it splattered tiny droplets of the sauce, which Danny knew would stain, all over the front of Steve’s shirt.

Danny bit is lips together to avoid yelling, scolding, or otherwise pointing out that he had, in fact, been correct.

Steve leveled a warning look at Danny, which was completely unnecessary, thank you. “I can do this, Danny,” he forced a smile. “I’ve done much more complicated things than eat sushi while in a cast.”

He couldn’t help it, Danny’s eyebrows rose challengingly and he licked his lips. “Yeah, babe, I’m sure you have.”

The look Steve returned was still mostly glare, but it held just a hint of amusement as well. “Could you please keep your mind out of the gutter for five minutes, Daniel? Just five minutes, is all I ask. That’s not so much, is it?”

Danny looked down at his sushi, which he had yet to touch, he’d been too absorbed in watching Steve attempt to navigate the left handed use of chopsticks. Instead of replying, he took a piece with his fingers, slid it delicately into his mouth, which he opened just enough to fit it in, chewed infinitely slowly, then sucked each finger completely clean.

“Nice, Danny. Very nice. Mind. Out of the gutter. This instant.”

Danny stuck a finger in the soy sauce, swirled it around for a bit, then sucked on that for a while, sliding it in and out a bit, finally pulling it out with a show of teeth. He then wiped his lips with the back of his hand, oh so slowly, then picked up his beer.

“You suck and I hate you,” Steve grumbled, setting his chopsticks down and picking up his beer in frustration.

“Naw,” Danny said, softly. “You love it.”

“I might,” Steve admitted, smiling just a little, “If I wasn’t so fucking starving.”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, leaning forward, lowering his voice deeper in his chest. “Well, maybe,” he paused to lick his lips. “Maybe you should let me feed you....” He could tell Steve’s resolve was slipping, because he actually let out a tiny groan. He took a long drink of his beer, set the bottle carefully down on the table, picked up his chopsticks with renewed determination, and attempted once more to pick up the roll.

He finally succeeded, and it was all Danny could do to not clap. Steve had evidently got the hang of it, after that, as he proceeded to eat all his sushi probably a little too fast. Danny couldn’t help it, he sat back in his chair, watching.

After a while, Steve stopped, mid chew, and looked at Danny with an expression that clearly said “What the fuck is your problem this time?”

Danny smiled in response, then sat forward and ate his food in an only slightly more civilized manner.

When they were both finished, Steve sat back, stretching his legs out underneath the table, bumping them into Danny’s. “Ok,” he said, on a smirk.

“Ok, what, babe?” Danny replied, but his tone was all fondness and hardly any exasperation.

“Ok,” Steve said slowly, slotting his legs between Danny’s and pressing them firmly outward. “You may now take me home and have your way with me.”

Danny’s eyebrows went back up, his eyes, he was sure, glittered with lust. “Yeah?” He asked, knowing he was blushing, and not minding it at all.

“Yeah,” Steve said, all heat and suggestion.

“Can I drive?” Danny asked, hopefully.

Steve closed his eyes on what Danny was pretty sure was a muffled attempt at hiding a moan, reached into his pocket, and very slowly laid the keys on the table. “Yes, please,” Steve whispered.

Danny laughed, rolled his eyes, and stood up. “Ok, then, let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, pulling out his wallet and leaving more than enough to cover the check and their completely inappropriate behavior.

Steve stayed seated till Danny had reached the door, where he turned back, to give Steve the “well are you coming or not” look. Steve licked his lips, then stood and all but strutted to the door. “After you,” he said to Danny.

“Damn right,” Danny replied under his breath, and walked to the driver’s side door thinking that other than the whole broken arm thing, it had been kind of a fun evening... so far..... He was pretty sure it was only about to get better.


	20. "Give him my heart while you're at it....."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Ch 20 is a S6E25 "fix" *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm meant to be taking a nice little break from writing, but that season finale left me no choice, I simply had to fix it.... and, since it just screamed "By Your Side," quite literally, well. Who am I to resist?
> 
> Just a few snatched moments between the boys in the hospital.......

Steve had fallen asleep fairly quickly after Danny pulled the curtain. It was a skill he'd developed over the years, out of necessity. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept when he was pulled out of a fitful slumber by Danny's mumbling.  

"Oh, God. Oh, God, Steven. Oh, God." 

Steve's heart dropped when he realized Danny was probably reliving his being shot.  

"Danny.... Danny.... Hey, buddy, it's OK.... It's OK, buddy, I'm here...." He tried to reassure his partner, but the curtain separated them, and Steve couldn't reach it.

"Don't you dare, Steven, don't you dare die...." Danny ended on a sob that pierced Steve's heart. He'd downplayed the seriousness of his injuries, as he always did. Granted, it had been harder than usual, given he would have died without Danny's unhesitating willingness to have his own liver sawed in half. 

"Daniel! Hey." He raised his voice, and heard Danny stutter awake. "Hey, babe." He huffed out a relieved breath, feeling way more emotional than he'd thought he was. "Hey, you gotta calm down, OK? I'm here. It's OK. I'm OK."

"Was I talking?" Danny sounded so bleary and out of it, Steve couldn't help but be worried.

"Yeah, buddy." He took a deep breath. "Hey, can you pull the curtain, I can't reach it."

He heard a heavy sigh, and thought for a moment Danny would refuse.

But the curtain drew back, and Steve saw Danny's tired face, stretched taut with strain. 

"You OK, buddy?" Steve asked softly. 

Danny sighed again. Closed his eyes. "I wanted so badly to kill him."

"I know you did. I know."

"No."

"No, what, buddy?"

"No, you don't know, Steven."

Steve took a slow breath. "OK." 

Danny huffed out a bitter laugh. "I was pretty sure you were going to be dead."

"I know," Steve swallowed around a lump in his throat. 

"You told me..." Danny turned to look at him. "You told me you were going to die." Steve saw there were tears rolling down his cheeks. "You never say that." He closed his eyes, tears spilling out, and pressed his lips together so tightly, Steve was sure it had to hurt. "You never say that." His eyes opened, and the look in them was so pained, so raw, Steve felt himself stop breathing. 

"Danny. I'm so sorry." He gulped, forced himself to breathe. "I don't know what to say."

Danny's laugh was even more bitter than before. "Yeah, I know."

And, something in his tone... Steve felt like his heart was breaking. "Daniel." 

"Yeah, babe." It was a sigh, so resigned, so... just resolved that this was it... and for some reason, it just made something click, and Steve just saw, finally, totally, clearly. 

"Daniel." 

Danny just looked at him, utterly resigned, utterly open, heart on his sleeve, of course it was, it always was, how did Steve not see that? 

"Jesus, Danny." Steve didn't know he was crying till he felt the tears falling down his cheeks. "Shit. Why didn't you tell me? Why have you never told me?"

"I tell you every day, Steven." He smiled. "You just don't listen."

Steve laughed, which hurt like hell, and he cringed. 

Danny grinned. "Yeah, serves you fucking right," he observed.

Shaking his head, Steve swallowed back more tears. "Yeah, it does."

They both sighed and settled back in their beds. 

After a while, Steve looked over at Danny, who was looking up at the ceiling, expression unreadable. He took a few long slow breaths, in an attempt to calm himself.

"I love you."

"I know you do," Danny replied, without even looking at Steve.

"No, I mean...." He trailed off, uncertain how to tell his best friend he really did love him.

"Yeah?" Danny asked, suddenly cluing in, looking over at Steve.

"Of course I do, you idiot." 

"Oh, I see how it's going to be......." But Danny smiled, and held Steve's gaze for a long time.

Slowly, they both drifted off to sleep. When Steve woke up, he saw Danny looking at him, as though he was afraid if he looked away he might vanish.

"Thank you for the liver, Daniel."

"Yeah, well, you already had my heart, what's another half an organ."

"Oh, that's a nice line, you been planning it long?"

"No, actually, it just came to me now. Impressed?"

"Yeah, Danny, I am."

"You are such a goof."

"Which you love." 

"I think we've established that."

"Well. Yeah. But, you could admit it more often. With words." 

"Oh, look who's wanting me to use words now. Wow, this _is_ an occasion." 

"Oh, my God, I've created a monster."

"I'm pretty sure you have that the wrong way 'round, babe." 

"Well. At least I'll always have a piece of you."

"How long you been waiting to use that one?" 

"About five minutes."

"That's impressive, babe."

Again, they drifted off. The next time Steve awoke, Danny was still sleeping, and it was his turn to gaze wonderingly at his astounding partner. When Danny stirred and opened his eyes, he smiled to see Steve watching him. 

"Danny."

"Yeah, babe," Danny said it so softly, so sweetly, Steve's heart skipped a beat. 

"Thank you for saving my life."

"So you said." He smiled.

"No. I mean.... Landing the plane. On the beach."

Danny sighed. "Oh, you heard about that, did you." 

"Yeah."

"Well, I just did what they told me to do."

"No you didn't." 

Danny smiled. "No, I didn't."

"You could have killed us all."

"Yeah, well. Could have." He paused, and Steve almost felt bad for bringing it up. "Would have killed you for sure if I'd landed in the water."  

"But you'd have been fine."

"No."

"You can swim, you'd have lived."

"No, I would not. Absolutely no way I'd have survived that."

Steve's heart thudded loudly in his ears. 

He didn't notice he was crying until Danny reacted by rubbing his own eyes. They laughed a little, and sighed, and slowly started to drift off again.

Just as he was about asleep, Steve spoke, without opening his eyes to see if Danny was awake.

"By the way, you survived jumping off the building."

"Yeah, could you maybe not risk my life for a little while, please?"

Steve smirked. "Yeah, Danny. I could do that for you. Just for a little while."

"Good," Danny said, yawning. "I'd like that."

"Night, Danny," Steve said fondly. "Love you."

"Love you too, babe."


	21. "Give him my heart....." (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter 21 is a follow up to my S6E25 "fix.")
> 
> I didn’t plan on doing more with my finale post-ep, but something kept poking at me, and, well, my feelings were being needy.... and then this happened......
> 
> One could, theoretically, read this without having read chapter 20, but it IS a continuation.
> 
> Takes place a few days after the boys are released from the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * (I’m just putting a little note here that this story deals with the fact that Steve was shot. And references other instances of people being shot, both in the show and "fictional" as well. Goes without saying, only I’m saying it. Because. Context. OK.) *

"Hey, buddy, whatcha doin' here?"

"Oh, my liver missed its other half."

Steve smirked. "You mean its better half."

"No." Danny rolled his eyes as he walked through the door, brushing a lot closer to Steve than was really necessary. "The better half missed the lesser."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," Steve whispered under his breath. He was pretty sure Danny heard, but pretended not to. "So, really, what's up? I was just...uh... doing some stuff."

"Oh, very eloquent, babe. Doing stuff?" Danny looked meaningfully at the sofa, which was piled with pillows and, embarrassingly, a fluffy pink blanket.

Steve grinned, ducked his head, scratched at the back of his neck, and shrugged. "Um, binge watching Bond movies?" He admitted.

"Awesome, babe, why didn't you invite me?" Danny sank into the sofa with enthusiasm, bringing the fuzzy blanket into his lap as he kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Let's finish...." he pressed the info button. "Excellent, _On Her Majesty's Secret Service_! Let's finish this, then we can order some take out. I'm worried you're not eating enough."

Steve wanted to protest—felt he _should_ protest—Danny's swooping in and managing his recovery, but he was secretly thrilled. Things had been a little awkward after their hospital room confessions, and in the days since, nothing more had been said, and nothing had... well. _Happened_. He had tried not to think too much about it, but Steve might begrudgingly have admitted he was worried that maybe Danny hadn't really meant it. He'd been through a lot, landing that plane, tracking down the shooter... and Steve knew, though Danny hadn't come right out and said it, but _he knew_... it had brought up too many awful memories for Danny. _"I wanted to kill him"_ hadn’t stopped echoing in Steve's head. He knew what Danny meant. He knew he meant _"Like I did Reyes."_ Which, Steve also knew, haunted Danny still.

So, when Danny hadn't made any further moves, Steve had let it alone. Had "given him his space." Or so he told himself.

He couldn't quite bring himself to sit down just yet.

Yes, he was stalling.

"Uh, I'd offer you a beer, but I think our liver would object."

Danny's smile was so sweet it went right through Steve's heart and threatened to knock him over.

"Water's good, babe," Danny said.

Steve had to lean against the sink to collect himself. He still got a bit lightheaded when he stood for too long, which frustrated him, but this was different. His heart was racing, and he was pretty sure it wasn't the meds or the recovery or anything other than his heart reacting to the prospect of sitting on the sofa next to Danny. Next to his best friend. Who had saved his life in more ways than he could count. Who had admitted he loved him.... And, who Steve had realized he was deeply, hopelessly, desperately in love with. And had been.... for a very long time. Yeah, Steve was pretty sure that explained his elevated heart rate.

Taking a deep breath, Steve grabbed two glasses and filled them from the pitcher in the fridge.

"You OK there, babe?" Danny looked predictably worried as Steve came back into the living room. "You look a little pale. Come here."

Steve swallowed. Hoped it wasn't totally obvious. Was pretty sure it was.

Danny pulled the pink blanket further into his lap, taking his feet off the coffee table so he could scoot over to make room for Steve, patting the seat next to him for Steve to sit. Steve put the glasses of water down on the coffee table and sat slowly down.

He knew without looking that Danny had his concerned face on, and Steve was not sure he could take too much of that.

"I'm fine, Danny. Press play."

He was pretty sure he felt Danny go totally still for a moment before he grabbed the remote and pressed play, leaning back into the sofa, kicking his feet back up on the coffee table. "OK, babe," he said softly.

The movie was actually one of Steve’s favorites. And he’d been entranced by it before Danny had shown up. But, with Danny right next to him, so close he could smell him... he could barely focus enough to see straight, let alone get immersed in the story again. Instead his head started running scenarios as to what Danny’s motivation was for showing up today.

Sometimes he hated that his brain did that. Admittedly, it was great for ops and cases. But for relationships, he had a feeling it was probably not the healthiest thing. He wanted to just relax and enjoy the movie. Enjoy being close to Danny after what felt like so long.

Yes, they’d been in beds next to each other for days. But just far enough to not touch, far enough to not really have that close eye contact that Steve so loved to have with Danny. Far enough to not feel the heat off Danny’s body. In other words, far, far too far. It had been a form of torture for Steve. And Steve had already been feeling tortured. Because at some point in the whole being saved by Danny, getting half of Danny’s liver, and being stuck in bed next to Danny in front of everyone.... At some point Steve had realized, panicked, that he was in deep. Once he was safe, once he was out of danger, he realized he was drowning. And, yes, OK, predictably, he had completely freaked out and not known what to do. His survival instinct had kicked in, and yeah, he’d behaved like an absolute jerk. But teasing Danny was so easy, so comfortable, so _safe_. He admitted he’d fallen more and more into that protective behavior over the past year. Ever since Charlie, he thought... because (and he hated himself for blaming Danny, but) that was when Danny had (as a deep dark corner of Steve’s heart confessed he called it)  _backed off_. And Steve had been too afraid to follow. He’d tried, he thought. Maybe a little. Maybe not enough. Clearly not enough. But he’d been afraid. Of what, he wasn’t at all sure. But Danny had changed. Of course he had, how could he not. How could a person go through what Danny had and not change. Steve couldn’t possibly hope to understand. And. Well. He hadn’t tried.

He hated himself for that as well.

Steve turned his focus to Danny next to him on the sofa. Not quite close enough to be touching, but close enough to feel the heat from his body, and why did that ground Steve? Why did that feel so, so comforting he wanted to cry? But the longer he sat, enjoying that heat, the more he realized something was not quite right. And that did nothing to calm his fears that Danny had just been overly emotional at the hospital. Taking a long calming breath as quietly as he could, he forced his focus back to the film, and if he spread his legs a little further apart as he settled down deeper in the sofa, and _just_ touched his thigh to Danny’s, well. He would have argued it was the only way he was going to make it through this.

What Steve had completely neglected to remember, and he guessed Danny had as well, because he felt the moment Danny realized what was coming (it was a split second after he did), was just exactly how this particular Bond film ended.

Swearing silently, and preparing to apologize to Danny, he was caught off guard by the tears streaming down Danny’s face, even before Tracy was shot. By the time Bond was holding her lifeless body, whispering that they had “all the time in the world,” Danny was actually shaking with his sobs.

“Shit, Danny, I’m—” he started.

“Shut up, just shut up,” Danny ground out, pulling Steve roughly into a kiss. He pulled back, banging his forehead with Steve’s, and holding his head firmly, almost violently, in place. “We don’t, Steven. We don’t have all the time... God, we may not have any at all. The way things have gone the past few years, I’m amazed we’ve made it through as well as we have...” he dove in for another kiss, pulling back with another bruising bash on the head, and Steve actually smiled as he felt like they both deserved the blows to the head. Maybe that was what they’d needed all along....

“I wasn’t sure if you really....” Steve started, once Danny had settled back, just looking at Steve, eyes red and wet and filled with something Steve couldn’t quite name.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “I know. I.... I know.” He took a deep breath and sat forward, taking Steve’s hands in his. “It was easy to drop it, I guess. There were so many practical things, and so much in the way....” He stopped and smiled brokenly at Steve, eyes filling once more. “But when they let us out, and I was prepared to just go back...” he rolled his eyes. “To normal.” He huffed out a bemused laugh. “I couldn’t sleep. Do you know? Without you by my side, I just... I couldn’t sleep.” He rubbed a hand over his face, pulling on his lower lip, watching Steve’s face closely. “Just how many days, sleeping next to you? And I’m ruined for life.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he knew the grin on his face was going to get him yelled at or possibly even smacked, but it just made him so happy to hear Danny admit that.

Danny didn’t respond, just bit his lip and shook his head.

“Danny, so don’t,” Steve whispered, pulling Danny’s hands closer to his chest. “Don’t ever sleep not by my side. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk, I’m sorry I didn’t push you further at the hospital, and I am so so sorry that I didn’t do something even before....” he faded off, shaking his head in frustration at himself. “Long, long before.” He sighed. “I am so sorry. About this whole year. Can we just....” He was battling with himself over it being OK that he ask what he so very much wanted to.... “Can we just start over?”

Danny was shaking his head. But he was smiling. Steve’s heart wasn’t at all sure how to respond. He swallowed, and tried really hard not to hold his breath.

Danny took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No, Steven, we cannot start over, we cannot ever start over, because that would be to deny very important things that have happened, to ignore huge things about who we are. But what we can do is agree to go forward _together_. Which I know is not going to be easy. But frankly not doing it isn’t an option for me anymore. I just can’t.” He smiled at Steve and let more tears roll down his cheeks. Steve wanted to kiss them away, but he let them fall for now. “OK?”

Steve nodded. “Can you stay?” He asked softly. “I don’t think I can let you go home....”

Danny smiled and stood up. “Well, fortunately, I am smart, and I am a planner. And I had a bag already packed from the hospital, and I added a few things, and yes, I am staying. I am very much staying.” And he leaned down to kiss Steve, then turned to the door. “Just... don’t go anywhere, OK?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah, Danny. I’ll be right here.”

Danny came back just a few moments later with a bag that was a lot larger than the one he’d had at the hospital. And a hanging garment bag. And a pillow. _A pillow?_ Steve laughed.

“Do not say anything Steven, I am very attached to my pillow, OK?”

And suddenly Steve realized he was crying. “You really... you did plan this.” He pressed his lips together and tasted salt. Wiping a hand over his eyes, he looked up at Danny. “What would you have done if...?” He couldn’t even ask the question.

Danny swallowed and looked Steve so directly in the eye he almost flinched. “Honestly, I wasn’t going to take any answer other than yes.”

“Wow,” Steve whispered, standing and walking to Danny, taking the bag from him and setting it down. “Bring the pillow. The rest can wait.” And he grabbed Danny’s free hand and led him up the stairs.

“Babe, I think that maybe we need to be careful... stitches and all...”

“I’m not taking an answer other than yes right now, Danny,” Steve called over his shoulder, and he was rewarded with a bright and glowing grin that went directly to his heart and settled in deep. And maybe they didn’t have a whole lot of time, who could possibly say. But whatever time they did have, they were done wasting it.


	22. Fourth of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another post-surgery story for the boys, but this one’s its own timeline. Just a little something that came to me in the night after the Fourth......

Steve yawned and stretched out his bare, sandy legs on the chair across from him at the table. He’d just finished some rather delicious grilled fish and a lovely salad, if he did say so himself. He wasn’t drinking yet, but he had a sparkling water with red, white, and blue fruit in it (Gracie had given him the idea, and he smiled when he remembered that). Sighing, he pushed the thoughts that tried to float to the surface back down, way down. It had been a wonderful day, he told himself. All day on the paddleboard, which had felt really good, so good to be back a little bit to himself. A very little bit. Himself. Just himself.

“Stop it McGarrett,” he scolded himself aloud. I mean, why not. It wasn’t like anyone was there to hear that he was talking to himself.

He looked at his guitar, which he’d brought out when he’d gone in to get more salad, thinking maybe he’d sit out here and watch the fireworks and play himself some nice patriotic music. Somehow, his heart just wasn’t in it. He told himself it was because he’d overdone it that day on the board. He wasn’t very convincing.

Another few minutes and he was flitting dangerously close to moroseness. It was getting hard to swallow and his vision was blurring. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves, he told himself that he was probably dehydrated. Which was probably true. And was dumb on his part. So he got up to get himself a big glass of water. Standing at the sink, watching the water fill the glass, thoughts that were way too symbolic about glasses and full and empty flooded his head. He wasn’t all that surprised when he wiped a tear away. That had been happening a lot lately. And he knew why. He did. He even admitted it. To himself, at least. Which was really easy to do when you were spending an awful lot of time in your own company.

Talking to yourself, even aloud, seemed to happen frighteningly easily. And thoughts you usually kept locked tight away developed this amazing ability to force themselves out. And feelings you usually suppressed, usually managed to persuade yourself were futile, or misconstrued, or simply fondness flavored with excessive amounts of gratitude, those feelings... they threatened to overwhelm. But he was still easily tired, he knew his resilience was low, and he’d always known that when he was physically compromised his hold on his emotions was more tenuous.

Still. It had become impossible to deny, in the month or so he’d spent essentially alone (and yes, ok, most of that had been his choice, his request, his demand even), it had become nearly impossible to deny that there was something missing. And even Steve was not so completely un-self-aware as to not know, with crystal clarity, what that something was.

He drank the glass of water and had started refilling it when the doorbell rang. He was so startled by the noise the glass slipped from his hand and broke in the sink. When was the last time someone had rung his bell? He couldn’t even remember. Turning the water off and resisting the urge, the stupid, paranoid urge to go get his gun before answering the door, he padded quietly to the door. Opening it slowly, he knew he’d be no match for anyone in his current state, and he hated himself for that. He was seriously slipping and he really needed to do something about it.

His heart, his mind, his instinct had on some level prepared for an attack, but nothing in him was prepared for the sight that greeted him instead. He huffed out a laugh and swung the door open, stepping back, to let Danny in. Danny, who was holding a cake that was decorated, with strawberries and blueberries, to look like a flag.

“Hey,” Danny said softly, his expression somewhere between hesitant and decided, and Steve laughed to himself that only Danny could manage to be both at the same time.

Steve felt a smirk forming on his face which delighted him more than he would have admitted. It had been too long. That was such an understatement.

“Make that yourself?” He asked, looking down at the cake in Danny’s hands.

Evidently deciding he was invited in, Danny pushed his way past Steve and headed towards the kitchen. Steve closed his eyes an allowed himself a moment to admit that, despite his insistence he wanted to be alone, he was relieved that Danny had finally chosen to ignore that. Tried to pretend he hadn’t been wanting it all along. Failed.

He swallowed and pulled himself together just a little and followed Danny into the kitchen.

“No, I did not make this, you idiot.” Steve hid the smile he felt at that, knowing he deserved it, and he felt his eyes sting a little, realizing how much he'd missed it. “Grace made it.” Danny stood, looking down at the cake, and not meeting Steve’s eyes.

“That was sweet of her,” Steve managed.

“Yes, it was,” Danny said, still not looking at Steve. “She’s a very sweet person.” Steve knew the part that was unsaid. _Unlike some people I know_.

“The kids with Rachel?” Steve asked, feeling stupid, but needing something to say, something to cover the fact that Danny was here, finally, wonderfully here, but not looking at him, refusing to meet his gaze. And Steve wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel really uneasy.

Danny finally looked up. “No.”

Steve knew he looked confused. He felt confused. He frowned. “Where are they?”

“Grace and Charlie are with Kono, and Chin, and everyone else, at Kamekona’s. Huge shindig you refused to come to?”

Suddenly Steve felt a little afraid.

“Danny....” But words failed him.

Danny, completely unhelpfully, didn’t say a word.

“Why are you here?” He finally asked, and knew, as soon as he’d said it, that it was completely the wrong thing to have said.

Danny closed his eyes, shook his head, and took a long, slow, shallow breath. But he was utterly calm. _Too calm_ , Steve’s sailor mind provided. He braced himself.

“I don’t know, Steven. Why might I be here, huh? Why might I think that we should be together, on this special, on this meaningful day, huh? Why might I want that?” He was shaking, and it took all of Steve’s strength to not reach out for him.

“Danny.” It came out in a whisper, it was all he could manage.

“Why, Steven? Why might that be?” Danny looked down at the cake. “Why might it be that it isn’t right without you there?” He looked at Steve, held his eyes. Steve saw them glisten in the harsh kitchen light. And he knew his looked just as red, just as wet, just as hurt.

He closed his eyes and tears fell on the counter. It was as if they actually sounded loud in the quiet of his lack of words, and he almost laughed, the thought was so absurd.

When he looked up, he saw tears falling down Danny’s cheeks. He smiled. Which was evidently the right thing, at least a good thing, because Danny laughed. Steve’s heart thumped loudly and he felt relief pour over him. God, he’d missed that sound.

“You are a jerk, you know that, right?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah, Danny, I know.”

Danny sighed, pulled two forks out of the silverware drawer, grabbed the cake off the counter, and headed back to the living room. Puzzled, Steve followed. Danny headed up the stairs and out to the lanai. He set the cake down on the table, sat down on the loveseat, and turned to Steve, handing him a fork.

“Sit.”

“Danny...” he started, wanting to protest his being here with him, rather than with the kids, and with everyone else, in a decidedly more festive setting. But he was too grateful that Danny was here for the words to come out without sounding completely insincere. So he didn’t try.

“Have some cake, Steve.”

A tiny smile escaped Steve’s lips at that, recognizing the switch from his full name. He knew enough to see it meant Danny was less mad. Took it as a hopeful sign.

Just as Steve sat down, the fireworks started. You could just see them, off to the side of the lanai, though the trees. They were faint, soft, more like flickers of a candle, but they sparkled, they shimmered, and the muted boom of the explosions reverberated in Steve’s chest. His smile grew, and Danny noticed.

“Should have known things blowing up would bring a smile to your lips,” he said, with more of his usual tone but laced with something Steve didn’t recognize. But then, he’d been away from Danny for so long maybe he was just out of practice.

Steve responded by taking a bite of the cake, which was delicious. He hadn’t been eating sweets, trying to be as healthy as possible, trying maybe a little too hard. A slight groan might have escaped his lips, as Danny snorted in response.

“Good cake, huh?” He smirked as Steve took another, kind of obscenely large bite. “Easy, babe, there’s a whole cake and it’s not going anywhere.”

Steve’s breath stopped. Danny hadn’t called him babe... well. Since before it all.

“Yeah?” He asked, around the mouthful of cake. He knew he didn’t mean the cake, and he felt pretty sure Danny didn’t either, but he knew his position was tenuous.

“That’s disgusting. Where’d you learn how to eat?”

Steve smiled. He recognized the tone. It was so familiar, so comfortable, so reassuring. “You could have brought plates,” he pointed out.

“Oh, really?” Danny replied, waving his fork at Steve. “I could have? I could have brought the plates? Do I have to do everything myself?”

Steve felt the slight jab at that. Ok, maybe a bit more than slight. Took the hit. Conceded the point. The fireworks were still booming softly in the background, and it seemed to Steve as though his heart was growing easier with each tiny explosion. Maybe Danny had a point about things blowing up. Maybe that meant something. It felt symbolic, important, significant, somehow.

“You’re right, Danny.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny asked—well. It wasn’t a question. The tone was far too snarky to be mistaken as a question.

Steve looked at the fork in Danny’s hand. “Would you like a plate?”

Danny actually laughed. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Steve felt slightly ridiculous for being so happy to go get a plate for Danny, but he knew this had absolutely nothing to do with plates or cake.

When he came back, he brought a plate—just one—and just one beer as well.

“I think...” he started, setting the beer down, tentatively, in front of Danny. “Just one, split....” He looked expectantly at Danny.

“Just one, split....” Danny repeated, his words sounding heavy in Steve’s ears, and the meaningfulness of his words pounded in his heart.

Danny took the plate from Steve, scooped out some cake onto it, and sat back. Steve held his breath as Danny took a bite.

“Yeah?” Steve prompted, waiting, knowing Danny’s reply would mean everything.

“Just one,” Danny repeated. “Shared. Together.” He paused, looking deeply into Steve’s eyes. Letting his words seep slowly in. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I think it’s time.”


	23. At Least One More

Danny was trying to sit still. He really was. The thing was, he’d been sitting still for so long... well. Maybe it was more the tension from holding himself _in_ for so long. He wanted to fidget. To fuss. To stretch. To... heck, to jump out of his skin. But he sat still. And he listened.

Sometimes he’d drift just ever so slightly off... not really to sleep. More to that kind of advanced stage of relaxation, almost like sleep. Stakeout sleep his first partner, back in Jersey, used to call it. Still aware of what’s going on around you, but it’s almost restful. This was not restful, Danny decided. He was on too high alert. Listening.

Every once in a while, Steve would start to snore just a little. And Danny almost preferred it when he did, because then at least he was sure that Steve was still breathing. When Steve would fall into a more restful slumber, Danny would have to listen more closely to make sure that Steve was still breathing. And Danny needed, very much, to be certain of that. Especially after the day they’d had.

Which he was not going to think about. Because that was _not_ the way to being able to sit still.

He tried calming himself by reciting lists of things. For some reason, he’d become obsessed with remembering all the flavors of shave ice that Kamekona had. He had the basics down... cherry, grape, watermelon, orange, green apple, raspberry, that awful blue one.... But he was fairly certain there were several of the more... exotic... flavors he wasn’t remembering. Pineapple, surely that was one?

Steve jolted just slightly, and Danny had to keep himself from putting a hand on him to calm him. He sighed, pressed his finger tips into his brow bone, pushed hard enough to make it hurt, and left them there, taking as deep a breath in as he could. When the pain kind of faded into the rest of his body so that it felt like everything hurt, not just his head, he pulled his fingers away and let out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Not the first time you’ve given me a headache, babe,” he whispered. “And it won’t be the last.”

Comforted by that... that it wouldn’t be the last, that there would be at least one more—that was saying something, wasn’t it, that “at least one more” was a comfort now, in the mind of Danny Williams. _Shit_. When had that happened? Oh, yeah. Probably the whole crashing the airplane on the beach thing... probably sometime around then.

Danny shook his head and let it fall back into his hands. He rubbed his forehead with his calloused fingers, then let them drag over his eyelids, enjoying the rough skin against the smooth. How his eyelids were still so smooth, he had no idea. Surely after so many years squinting in the brutal Hawaiian sun, his eyelids should have been... well. Not as soft. It was all the humidity, he decided. That clammy, slimy, always stuck to your skin, never escape from it except in the ice box of a totally sealed office building—and even then, Danny always felt he could sense it, creeping at the windows, trying to get in. Slithering, relentless, interminable moisture. He was fairly sure that if you split one of his bones open, you would find it contained humidity.

Which had been completely the wrong thought to have had. Too many bones split open. Too many bodies split open. Too much blood staining the ground, the sand, the hospital floor....

Blood orange. Danny was fairly sure that was one of Kamekona’s new “exotic” shave ice flavors. And something else orange in color... guava, probably. Steve would probably like that one. Danny still preferred grape. You knew what you were getting with grape. Grape was familiar. It tasted like... grape. You knew it, recognized it. Without doubt. You didn’t have to have one of those “huh, you know what this kind of tastes like?” conversations that you always seemed to wind up having with the frightening neon green or blue flavors. Or one of the ones whose names he was never going to remember.

Suddenly Danny realized he hadn’t eaten in... fourteen hours? Was that possible? No wonder he was half feeling like he might pass out and half wanting to crawl out of his own skin.

Pizza toppings. That was a good list. Real pizza toppings. Not corn, or pineapple, or BBQ sauce, or “fresh herbs” whatever the heck that meant. He could go for a real pizza. John’s. Or Lombardi’s. Or heck, even just Georgio's. He sighed and looked at Steve, who had been snoring softly, lulling Danny into a somewhat more relaxed and safe-feeling state. He’d wind up with Happy Valley Pizza. And a conversation about how calamari and other things from the sea did not belong on pizza. And he’d cave, because Steve was hurt, and he was turning into a pathetic old softy when it came to Steve’s odd “healing from traumatic injury” food cravings. Of which, it seemed, there was a terrifyingly increasing quantity. So, Danny would eat pizza that he made himself feel better about eating because he told himself it wasn’t really pizza. And then he’d have some ridiculous dessert. Like jello that wasn’t really jello that tasted not totally unlike really strong diner coffee when you’ve been awake all night—kind of stale, yet surprisingly refreshing. Seriously. What kind of world had Danny landed in, he had to ask himself.

It was something he asked himself a lot lately. Ever since the whole plane, beach, crash, blood, liver thing.

What the hell kind of world where “at least one more” near-death, terrified-Steve-would-stop-breathing-and-just-not-start-again, sitting as still as he could on Steve’s bed, afraid to touch him, afraid to leave him, afraid to move, afraid to... think. Afraid to admit it. Afraid to not.

Almost as though he sensed he was being thought about, Steve woke up at that. He turned over, saw Danny sitting next to him on the bed, and smiled.

“Hey,” he said, surprisingly alertly, for one who had spent the past ten hours passed out after a day that was beyond insane. “What time is it?”

“Just about quarter to nine,” Danny replied, wearily.

“Great! Just in time to call in an order to Happy Valley!” Steve’s sheepish grin belied the confidence in his tone. He knew Danny would give in. He almost looked a little guilty about that. Almost.

Danny sighed, but smiled. “Sure thing, babe. The usual?”

“Naw,” Steve said, almost on second thought. “Let’s just get pepperoni this time. You deserve it.”

Danny choked on his laugh, and felt, frustratingly, tears prick at his eyes. Yeah. Pepperoni pizza could make him cry now? He was seriously screwed.

“OK,” he said, simply, and reached for his phone. At least one more time.


	24. Not a Date Night....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not in the same timeline as the "Date Night" stories in "The Best Medicine.")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the idea for this one came from... Squishables. Yep. Those slightly odd looking, round, fuzzy stuffed animals that come in all crazy kinds—including food. Note of warning: If you do not know what they are and look them up, I am not responsible for you becoming obsessed with them. They are dangerously adorable and cuddly. Anyhow. The ones in this story are real.

Steve was injured. Just a small injury. Just a sprained ankle. But he was milking it for some reason, using crutches, complaining it hurt. Not his usual self about it at all. Danny tried not to feel guilty for it, but the thing was, it was kind of his fault. Interestingly—because Danny found all things relating to Steve injuring himself fascinating (don’t try and get him to admit why, that’s a losing battle)—Steve did not get this injury on the job. He got it helping Danny clean out his gutters. Yeah. It was a long story, involving highly improbable and kind of ridiculous things, but Danny still felt guilty. And, Steve was milking it—again: for some reason. Today, it seemed to be taking the form of Steve following Danny around like a puppy. Granted, it was the weekend, and Steve had probably planned on surfing to the Big Island or something stupid, but instead, he was going grocery shopping with Danny. I mean, what?

Half way through his shopping, Danny had begun to not feel so much guilty as annoyed as heck. This probably had something to do with the running commentary and glaring judgmental looks Steve was providing at each and every item Danny put in his cart.

Things like:

“Have you ever even read the ingredients on those?”

And:

“You don’t really feed those to your kids, please tell me you do not.”

And, Danny’s favorite:

“How are you even still alive?”

Fortunately, Steve got distracted in the baking section and left Danny in peace for awhile. They met up at the checkout, and Steve had a small bag tucked under his arm.

“Picked up a few things, did you?” Danny asked, mildly curious.

“Yeah, just a few things I was getting low on,” Steve replied blandly, and turned and headed to the parking lot.

While Danny was in the kitchen unloading his horrible groceries, Steve disappeared somewhere in the house, which, in retrospect, Danny realized, had been his next mistake. It had been too quiet for too long, and Danny’s sense of foreboding had grown to dangerous levels. He put the last life-threatening, poor-excuse-for-food item on the shelf and folded the grocery bags slowly. Taking a deep breath, he set out to find Steve.

It didn’t take long. Steve was sitting on Danny’s bed. Holding a gigantic chocolate chip cookie. In the form of a stuffed animal.

Danny rolled his eyes, not looking forward to this. At all.

Steve looked up at him with the most delighted smirk Danny thought he’d ever seen.

“What’s this, buddy?” Steve asked. Danny was impressed that he managed to say it without laughing.

“What does it look like, Steven?” He really was too tired and crabby for this right now, thank you very much.

“Wellll,” Steve said, sounding more like a teenager than a grown man. “It looks like a chocolate chip cookie... and a pillow... but it has a smile....”

“Ah, well, there you go then. That’s what it is.”

“Wh—” Steve started, but couldn’t come up with anything else. This pleased Danny rather a lot, who turned on his heel and left the room.

Of course Steve followed. Hobbling along after Danny: “Danny, wait! Seriously, Danny, what is it?”

Danny kept walking till he got to the kitchen where he opened the fridge, pulled out a beer, opened it, and took a very large drink.

Steve stood watching him expectantly.

Danny finished half his beer, set it down on the counter, and took a deep breath. “They’re called ‘squishables’ and Grace is obsessed with them. They come in animals and foods and she has like sixteen of them, and she got me that one so I can always have a cookie for dessert even though I shouldn’t eat sweets so much.” He knew he ended on a tone of “there, are you happy now” but he didn’t care. He finished his beer and waited for Steve’s response.

“Danno, that’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling, and smacked Danny on the shoulder. “It really is.” Then he grabbed a beer from the fridge, and another for Danny. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Oh, my god, please tell me you’re kidding me.”

“I can’t drive home like this, Danny,” he said, pointing to his foot. “Are you going to feed me or not?”

“I was going to order pizza.”

“But you just went grocery shopping!” Steve actually sounded shocked.

“Yeah. So?” Danny was too tired and too crabby for this.

“So.... isn’t that a bit... odd?” Steve really did sound like he’d never heard of such a thing.

“How is that odd?” Now Danny was just getting pissy. He had his weekend routine, thank you very much, and he did not need the big goof messing everything up, alright?

“Um. You just bought nearly two hundred dollars worth of food, and now you’re going to order pizza? I don’t know. Why would that be odd?” But Steve kind of deflated by the end, almost as if he was just going to give in.

“OK, you idiot, that was food for the week. This is my weekend. I’m not cooking.”

“I could cook,” Steve almost bounced, as if cooking for Danny would be something that would be fun.

“No, you can’t,” Danny found himself suppressing a smile. “You are supposed to be resting, remember? And, unless I’m very much mistaken, you have not been doing that.”

“OK. Pizza it is,” Steve acquiesced. “Can we at least get vegetables on it?”

“No. But I will make you a salad, OK?”

Danny ordered a sausage pizza because it was supposed to go well with Shiraz—he had a lovely bottle of Australian Shiraz he’d been wanting to drink, and he really needed a nice drink that evening. Not to imply that spending the day with Steve was driving him to drink, you understand. Just, it had been a rough week, and he wanted a nice evening.

It was actually quite nice, Danny thought, as they sat at the dining room table, eating pizza and salad off real plates. Ordinarily, he would have eaten the pizza out of the box, sitting on the sofa, watching a recorded game or some really bad action movie. He would have still used the nice wine glasses, because he was not a Neanderthal. But the cloth napkins and candles were a nice touch. Things he would typically have only done if he was on a date. _Now, why had he gone and thought that?_ He swallowed the rest of his wine in one gulp and refilled his glass.

“The wine really does go really well with this pizza,” Steve commented, through a mouthful of pizza.

It was Danny’s turn for a smirk. “I know, right? Fantastic.”

“How’d you know?” Steve wondered, taking a big gulp of wine and looking rather intently into Danny’s eyes.

Danny was tempted to reply something snarky along the lines of all Jersey people being trained in the art of pairing pizza with wine, but pulled out his phone and tossed it at Steve. “It’s an app. Of course.”

“An app to tell you what wine to drink with what pizza?” Steve’s eyes went wide.

“Yep,” Danny replied, still smirking.

Steve looked impressed. “Wow. You figured that out all on your own, did you?”

“Uh, no.” Danny admitted. “Toast told me about it.”

Steve grinned and took another drink of wine. “Well, tell him thank you, this is really nice together.”

Danny decided he would _not_ be telling Toast that Steve really liked the wine with the pizza _by candlelight_ , but he nodded and poured Steve more wine.

When they were done, Steve tried to help clear the table and do the dishes, but Danny sent him to sit on the sofa and watch something.

Once Danny was done, he joined Steve, who had chosen an action movie that was clearly supposed to be exciting but was really just predictable, but they had fun laughing at it.

At the end, Danny got up and went to the hall closet, grabbed some sheets, a pillow, and a blanket, and threw them at Steve.

“Here,” he said. “I’m not driving you home tonight, you can crash here.”

Steve looked at the blanket, which was pink and had unicorns on it. Then looked back up at Danny. “Thanks, buddy.”

Danny walked into his bedroom and came back out with a white and blue stuffed animal in his hands. He threw it at Steve, with probably more force than was actually necessary.

“Ow! Hey! What was that for?”

“To cuddle.”

Steve grinned. “What’s this one?”

“A cuddlefish.”

“I’m pretty sure you mean ‘cuttlefish,’ Danno,” Steve responded, laughing.

“No, you jerk, it’s a cuddle fish, as in, you _cuddle_ it. Now, shut up and go to sleep.”

“Awww, Danno, that’s adorable.”

“Just shut up,” Danny said again, only with more warmth and affection in his tone than he thought he’d meant, and went to his room to get ready for bed.

Danny’d only been in bed for a short while before he heard footsteps in the hall. Danny was really good at hearing footsteps in the hall, only they were usually attached to much, much smaller feet.

“Hey, Danno, your sofa sucks, buddy.”

“Oh, my god, you have got to be kidding me.”

“No, really, man, it’s awful.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s ok. I’ll just sleep here.”

“Um. What? No you won’t, you idiot. Go away! What are you doing? Ungh.”

“Just... scoot over.”

“You are _not_ sleeping in bed with me, Steven.”

“Come on, man, I’m hurt, I’m tired, and I cannot sleep on the sofa, even with that adorable cuddling fish you gave me.” Steve’s bulk bounced Danny around on the bed as he tried to get comfortable. He eventually settled on his side, facing Danny. “Can I cuddle the cookie?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no, you Neanderthal.”

“OK. Turn over.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, if I can’t cuddle the cookie, I’ll just have to cuddle you.”

“Please tell me you are kidding.”

“Danno. Shut up and turn over.”

Danny turned over, clutching the cookie to his chest, and held his breath.

Thing was. And Danny would not admit this, not even if you put a gun to his head—I mean, that was something he was kind of used to, right? Not going to sway him. But the thing was. It was kind of nice. In a really weird kind of way. He accidentally pulled Steve’s arm in closer, sighed, and fell soundly asleep.

When he woke up, he smelled coffee. And something cinnamon baking.

He started laughing to himself before he even opened his eyes. Of course, even injured, Steve was up, raring to go, at the crack of dawn. He stumbled blearily out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, shoving his feet in his slippers, and shuffled to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” Steve called, enthusiastically. Far too enthusiastically for this early. But then he pressed a warm mug into Danny’s hand, and Danny forgave him. Danny would have forgiven him just about anything in that moment, but don’t ever tell Steve that. He’d use it to his benefit, you know he would.

“Mmmm,” Danny sighed into his coffee. “That’s nice. Thanks, babe.”

Steve smirked.

“What’s that smell? Are you baking something? Does my oven even work?”

“Yes, Daniel, your oven works, and that, my friend, is my famous coffeecake.”

“Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“Well, if it’s famous, how come I’ve never had it before? I love coffee cake.”

“I thought you loved malasadas.”

“Well, obviously. Who doesn’t? But we don’t have malasadas back home. We do, however, have coffeecake. And, you may not know this, _my friend_ , but Jersey is rather known for its coffeecake.”

“I thought that was New York.”

“Do not go there with me. You will lose.”

“Oh, it’s a battle, is it?”

Danny merely glared at Steve, who had the good sense to let it drop.

“Well, yes, my coffeecake is famous. Just because I haven’t made it in a few years....” Something about Steve’s tone or the look in his eyes sent tiny little alarm bells ringing in Danny’s head. He squinted at Steve, and felt very, very odd all of a sudden.

“Why do I have this very strange feeling that I do not want to know when you last made this... or, more to the point... _who_ you last made it for? Hmm?” Steve actually blushed, and Danny was too surprised by that to take it further. For now. “Well, the smell of cinnamon in the morning sure is wonderful,” he said instead. For some reason this made Steve blush even more. _Huh, wasn’t that was interesting_.

“More coffee?” Steve asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Danny didn’t even know what to say to that, so he shook his head to get rid of that line of thought, accepted more coffee, and settled in for a lazy morning.

Turned out, the coffeecake really was very, very good.

“So, what do you usually do on Saturdays when you’re not hanging out with the kids or me?” Steve asked once they’d eaten.

Danny snorted.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Just, that’s appropriate, you putting yourself in a category with my kids. I never thought about it that way before, but it’s kind of true.”

Steve just crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, looking oddly pleased with himself Danny thought, for all he’d just been called a kid.

“Well,” Danny started. “There’s laundry. Maybe some cleaning. Catch up on my shows. The usual.”

“Can I help?” Steve asked, and Danny couldn’t help it, he turned and looked at him like he had three heads.

“What?”

“Can I help with your chores, then we can do something fun.”

“You, my friend, are injured, do I need to remind you of this?”

“I can fold laundry sitting down,”

“So you can.”

And so, Steve helped Danny with his laundry, and sat on the kids’ beds while Danny vacuumed their rooms. They had leftover pizza for lunch, watched like five episodes of Danny’s show (“How do you even get that far behind on a show, Danno, really?”), then Steve sat on the lanai drinking a beer while Danny mowed the lawn.

When Danny came out of the shower after that, Steve was looking thoughtful.

“Let me take you out for dinner,” he said, handing Danny a beer. “Then you can take me home.”

Danny suppressed a snort at the way that last bit had sounded, and tried to accept the offer graciously.

“That’d be nice, babe, thanks.”

They had a rather pleasant meal at Danny’s local hole-in-the-wall bistro-type-place. Just burgers and fries and beers, but for some reason they were both really relaxed and being nice, and they talked about silly, meaningless things, but in that way that you wind up feeling like it’s one of those times you’ll just remember with fondness. Danny was feeling kind of lost in thought about that by the time he pulled up in front of Steve’s place.

“Thanks for taking such good care of me, buddy,” Steve said, as he got out of the car.

“Yeah, I think it was more the other way around, babe,” he said softly, and then got out to make sure Steve got in safely. I mean, he didn’t want him falling once he got inside, right?

They stood at Steve’s door, almost awkwardly, which was making Danny’s stomach do all kinds of weird things.

“You gonna be OK in there with that ankle?” Danny finally asked.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine. I’m used to it,” Steve had the grace to look sheepish at that.

“Yeah,” Danny laughed, “I guess you are.” He smiled, patted Steve on the shoulder. “OK, I’ll come get you in the morning for work.”

“Right,” Steve said, as if that thought had pulled him out of something else he’d been thinking of.

“Night,” Danny called, as he walked back to the Camaro. As he pulled away, watching Steve wave, he couldn’t help thinking it felt very odd to not kiss Steve goodnight.... Which had to be the strangest thought he’d had in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is an app that pairs wine with pizza. The match for Hawaiian pizza, just in case you were wondering, is Zin. Because, of course it is.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. Far far too long between postings here! As with my recent TBM, this is just some rough comfort writing... this one I edited a little, but only just a little. I just needed this today.... hope some sense of comfort comes through for those of you who love that too.

Danny awoke with a moonbeam shining in his eyes. Smiling, and relaxing gratefully—because it meant there was still night ahead of them, still time to rest, time to be still—he looked over at Steve, sleeping almost soundly, next to him. The moonlight highlighted the bruises forming on his face, throwing the scratches, the clotted blood into high relief—but he looked so much softer, younger, so vulnerable... the cuts, the gashes, the wounds seemed out of place on so kind-looking a person. Danny closed his eyes and tried to block the images that were trying to come flooding back to him, the process by which each and every one of those scratches and bruises had come to decorate the face of Steve McGarrett.

Swallowing the tears that were threatening to leave his eyes, Danny felt his throat was a little raw. Telling himself it was probably from yelling so much the day before, he admitted he wouldn’t be shocked if he was coming down with a cold—and not just because Charlie had had one the last time he’d been over. Emotions, strong emotions, especially that fear-anger hybrid that tangled up his heart when he was confused and fighting admitting things, had tended, throughout his life, to give Danny a literal pain in something. Usually his head, but sometimes his throat. Especially if he was finding himself swallowing his words rather than saying them.

Which maybe explained why, when he’d climbed over the corpses blocking the way to where Steve had fallen, he’d kissed Steve on the lips and said “I hate you” before he could think the better of it. He’d thought Steve had been unconscious, and his eyes had stayed closed, but the fraction of smirk that touched those surprisingly soft lips had belied that notion. Steve had then drifted into unconsciousness, and when he’d woken up, Danny couldn’t say for sure if Steve remembered the kiss or not.

Hours in the hospital Danny’d sat there, next to Steve’s bed, while nurses fussed, doctors conferred, and finally, one wise and observant doctor, who had dealt with Steve before and had noticed the look on Danny’s face, decided that not only was it safe for Steve to be taken home, it was probably for the best. As long as Danny was willing to stay with him all night. Danny was fairly sure he saw at least one nurse wink at him, and the doctor who’d made the call had clapped Danny on the shoulder and looked him in the eye, smiling reassuringly. About what exactly, Danny hadn’t been quite sure.

So, there’s the explanation for how Danny had found himself sharing Steve’s bed for the first time. Nothing romantic, nothing revelatory, nothing surprising. Really, it was fitting, when Danny thought about it—he got in Steve’s bed not because they finally admitted their feelings, but because Steve was hurt. It’d been bound to happen at some point, with the way Steve carried on, putting himself in danger, recklessly, stupidly, frustratingly.

The really interesting thing, Danny found himself admitting as he lay there, watching Steve sleep mostly peacefully, was that _Danny_ felt better than he typically would have. Obviously being in a bed was more comfortable than sleeping in a chair in the hospital, which was something Danny had done far too many times to count. But it wasn’t just that.... And as he allowed the thought, he saw—as though the moonlight had illuminated it, just like it lit up their faces—that it was because he’d admitted to himself what he meant when he said “I hate you.”

In a sense, it was perfectly logical. He’d always said “I hate you” more easily than he said “I love you” to Steve. But their “I love yous” were already filled with one meaning. If Danny now found himself needing some new way to say what he really meant... well. It made sense that “I hate you” would be where he’d gone.

Steve stirred slightly at the thought, as though he’d somehow been aware of the flood of feeling in the chest of the man next to him in bed. Or, just the fact that there was a man next to him in bed.... Danny sighed softly, but he felt his lips forming a smile. He shook his head slightly, bit his lips together, and turned on his back, closing his eyes, thinking he should probably try to sleep.

Several deep breaths later he admitted that sleep wasn’t very likely. Something had shifted, and he wasn’t nervous, wasn’t afraid, wasn’t anxious—well, okay, maybe a little anxious, but in a good way. Because there wasn’t any doubt in Danny’s mind that Steve felt the same way he did. It was as though he’d seen, in almost the very same moment he’d realized that he really did love Steve, he saw not just that he had for a very long time, but that Steve loved him as well. And that he’d known it, somehow, without actually knowing it.... It reminded him of holding Grace for the first time. He’d felt like he _recognized_ her. She was brand new and so amazing and so beautiful and he’d been shocked by her glowing presence that went directly to his heart like some kind of ray of light... and yet he _knew_ her.

Danny knew Steve loved him. And he knew that Steve knew that Danny loved him. And, maybe now that Danny had kissed him, they would be transported to some magical realm of that not being something they hid any longer.... So, yeah, Danny wasn’t likely to fall back asleep. But he didn’t want to leave Steve’s side, and not just because he’d been warned not to by several nurses and at least one doctor.

Again before he knew what he was doing, his hand was reaching for Steve’s. It made sense that Steve’s training had imbued in him some kind of super sleeping sensing power, and so when Steve tightened his hold on Danny’s hand, Danny gasped slightly, but had to admit he wasn’t shocked. Biting his lips together wasn’t holding the smile back any longer, so Danny just went with it, and as he did, he felt a warmth spread through him... a feeling of peace, of letting go... that feeling you get when you’re no longer fighting something or trying to hide from it.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” The voice was soft, but warm. Confident, but not over-certain.

Opening his eyes and turning to face Steve, Danny huffed out a small laugh. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried,” he said, as he moved closer.

“Now why on earth would I want to do that?” Steve rolled on his side, grimacing as he did, and reached his other arm over Danny, pulling him closer.

As their bodies settled together, Danny found himself thinking: _Finally! Finally! Finally!_ And he was pretty sure Steve’s heart was echoing the same thought. Their lips met, softly, tenderly, melting together, and no kiss had ever felt so absolutely perfect.

“Skip work today,” Steve whispered, as he moved just slightly back. “Your boss won’t mind.”

Danny laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. He can be a real hard ass.”

Steve’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, he does.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Easy there, Smooth Dog. None of that till you’re better.”

“I think the doctor said I needed lots of kisses.....” Steve whispered as he leaned back in, capturing Danny’s lips once more.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he had in mind,” Danny managed before he completely lost the ability to speak, or think, or do anything other than kiss Steve.

Eventually they fell back asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, and when they woke up, sunlight had replaced the moonlight on their faces, and everything felt completely different... and yet wonderfully, splendidly, just exactly the same as it always had.


	26. Half Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve shows up at Danny's in the middle of the night after a rough case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's been far far far too long! 
> 
> Just a little comfort fluff I wrote this morning. Not really edited very much, so excuse any mistakes or poor writing, but I wanted to post it right away. :-)

Danny’s phone rang. He knew without looking who it was. One way or another, there was only one person who would call him at this time of night. Especially after the day they’d had. Almost in his sleep, he rolled over, grabbed his phone, answered it.

“What’s up, babe,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Danny.” Steve sounded broken. Well, that made sense, they’d all just about been shattered by the heartbreak of the case that day—Steve more than most, as he’d been there at the last... at the end.

With his other hand, Danny rubbed some sleep from his eyes. He was too tired to be on the phone being supportive right now, but he sure as hell would try. “Babe,” he started, but Steve let out a breath so sharply it seemed like he felt it in his ear as if Steve were there beside him.

“Can I come over, Danny?”

Danny smiled, somewhere between bitter and smug. “Yeah, babe, I said you should in the first place. No one should be alone after that. Call me when you get here.”

A slight pause, an awkward breath: “I’m here....”

Danny’s heart did something funny at that. He brushed it aside as he shoved the blankets back and got up, shuffling to the door. He didn’t even look at Steve as he stood there, just turned back around and headed back to bed. He’d comfort Steve, listen to him, whatever he needed; but he sure as hell wasn’t doing it standing up.

He felt Steve hesitate for a moment, but then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, following Danny back to the bedroom.

Sliding exhaustedly back beneath the covers, Danny lifted the other side in invitation.

Again, Steve hesitated.

Danny let out a sound that was meant to sound encouraging, at least he thought it had. Really it sounded a lot more threatening than kind. He couldn’t see Steve’s face in the dark, but he was pretty sure that was a smile. Steve slipped off his flip flops, tossed his keys and phone on the side table, and climbed into bed next to Danny. He lay there stiffly at first, but Danny turned over, scooted back towards Steve, reached an arm out over him, tugging once, then resting his hand on Steve’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “I don’t know why....”

“I know, babe,” Danny said back, his voice sounding loud by comparison. “It’s okay, just come here.” He tugged again on Steve, felt him give in a little.

Moving closer, sighing as his body settled next to Danny’s, Steve shuddered once, then relaxed. Danny smiled, nestled further back into Steve.

“There, that’s better. Now, do you want to talk?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. Do you want to talk now or do you need to just sleep and we can talk in the morning?”

Danny was certain he could feel another smile, but he didn’t see what was coming. Steve nuzzled into the back of Danny’s neck, so that Danny felt more than heard his reply: “Sleep.”

Ironically that was seeming less and less plausible, Danny realized as he tried not to shudder at the sensation. “Alright, babe,” he replied, and tried to fall back asleep.

Turned out, Steve was something of a cuddly sleeper. Thinking he’d probably have seen that coming if he’d thought about it: Steve who wouldn’t leave Danny alone, Steve who wouldn’t let Danny out of his sight. Frustrating, annoying, in-your-face-and-won’t-back-down Steve, of course he’d be an octopus in bed.

Danny wasn’t really sleeping.

His frustrating, broken, and adorable— _wait, what?_ —partner, however, _was_.

Danny had a lot of experience being woken in the night by people who couldn’t sleep who then crawled into bed with him and fell immediately asleep. They were just ordinarily a whole heck of a lot smaller and less of a weight against his side, across his body, and their breaths were generally soft and sweet, rather than heavy and... hot.

While he wasn’t sleeping, Danny tried to catalogue Steve’s injuries of the day from memory. It was a little hard, because Steve had tried to hide them. But Danny had a few year’s training in the “Diagnose Your Partner’s Injuries On The Go” category. He’d also honed the skill of remembering them as they went, in some kind of bizarre protective attempt to keep his stubborn and self-sacrificing partner from doing himself lasting damage. Maybe it had started after the crash, maybe it had begun before that, but it had helped more than once, he was certain.

He felt, with his mind, over each of Steve’s recent injuries and compared those with where he thought Steve had been hurt today. Most were far enough apart, but a couple seemed awfully close together. Wishing he could apply some magical healing cream to those areas, Danny found himself almost mentally caressing Steve’s battered body. It seemed to be soothing Danny as well, and before he knew it, he was asleep as well.

He dreamed about rubbing Steve’s injuries with ointment, applying bandages. Which was weird, because Danny wasn’t really one for that sort of thing. He did it for his kids, sure. They’d both told him he was much better with owies than Rachel, which didn’t surprise him in the least as she’d always been the “it’s just a scratch, get over it,” type, whereas he’d been brought up under the “kiss it better” theory of injury treatment. But never with adults. And while he’d always been extremely conscious and solicitous of Steve’s injuries (well, someone had to be, and it certainly was never going to be the big goof himself), he had, it seemed, become a whole lot more... _protective_... of Steve. Since the crash. Which made perfect sense, as part of Danny was now running around, leaping off buildings, throwing itself in front of speeding cars, crashing through glass, sliding along the ground.... But there was more to it than that. The dream proved that much, though he hadn’t really needed proof.

So, when Danny awoke, after said dream, he might just have pulled Steve closer to him. He might have whispered something so softly even he couldn’t hear it, and he might, just might have bent his head down and pressed a feather-light kiss to Steve’s hand, which was wrapped in his own, right above his heart.

Steve slept on, and Danny had never had it in his power to see that his perennially sleep-deprived best friend got more sleep, so he fully intended taking advantage of the situation.

He decided to continue his inventory of Steve’s injuries. Mildly curious to see how far back he could go, he thought about the week they’d had. Soon he was distracted by the extent of the injuries Steve had acquired in so short a space of time. Danny realized he’d been slacking in his attentiveness in that regard, and it took him a while to figure out why.

Ever since the beginning of their partnership, Steve had shown a tendency to throw himself sacrificially in front of danger for not just Danny but all members of their team. Danny had accepted it fairly readily as part of his Navy training. All cops have it to some degree, it’s part of cop DNA—at least, that’s what Rachel had said, in highly unpleasant terms, during one of their many fights about Danny’s own self-wounding proclivities. Steve just had a higher degree of it. A _lot_ higher.

But lately... lately there was some different flavor to it, and it had been directed solely at Danny.

Danny had noticed this almost right away. And it had been distracting him.

For a while now, Danny had been admitting to himself, when he was drunk, that he’d been noticing Steve differently. And he’d been if not comfortable with it at least resigned to it, because he knew what he was like when he got that way, and there wasn’t anything to do about it except wait it out, and eventually his heart would be too crushed, too broken to continue, and it would reluctantly let go and he would move on with a huge part of himself missing. Again.

But this new behavior of Steve’s had been distracting and puzzling and frustrating and hard, really hard to take.

So, a number of times in the past weeks, Danny was now realizing, he had completely neglected to remember Steve’s injuries, because they’d been acquired while Danny was himself flung to safety and stunned over Steve’s behavior and struggling with his feelings, while Steve was getting hurt in his place.

His heart was speeding up as he realized this, realized what it meant, and soon he was starting to kind of freak out.

Which of course he should have known would have awakened Steve the Super SEAL from even the deepest of sleeps, let alone a shallow, injury-ridden sleep that was moving towards waking already anyway.

Sure enough, Steve stirred, clearly felt instantly that something was wrong, and using some kind of Navy magic that had never ceased to amaze Danny, not even after all these years, somehow flipped Danny effortlessly over, into his embrace, hugged him close to his chest, and began soothing him, rubbing his back, shushing him, and—stunningly—kissing the top of his head.

Danny soon realized that Steve had been acting out of instinct, out of his own half-asleep state. He felt the moment when Steve realized it as well, as he stilled, then slowly released Danny.

Pulling back to look at his still-amazing partner who was blushing just slightly, Danny smiled.

“That was nice, babe,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to touch a cut on Steve’s face. It wasn’t from yesterday, it was mostly healed, but he didn’t remember it being there, didn’t remember how it got there, and that upset him.

Steve grabbed Danny’s hand and kissed it. Something about the way he was looking in Danny’s eyes made him wonder if Steve hadn’t been as asleep as he’d thought....

“I love you too, you know,” he whispered—not as softly as Danny had, but close.

Danny closed his eyes just as the tears fell. “Yeah, babe,” he sighed. “I know.”


	27. A Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After s7e21, Danny doesn’t trust Steve to rest, so he takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still behind on watching episodes. And I’m behind on writing, which is worse. I caught up to episode 21, and the doctor’s office scene just flooded my heart, and then Steve getting beat up.... This just was what my feelings needed. It’s a bit rough and only lightly edited, as BYS & TBM often are... just me working my way back into writing. :-)

The morning after their little jaunt to Lanai, Danny showed up at Steve’s house, bright and early. It caught Steve, who was still in his sweats, off guard.

“Hey buddy. I ah, I actually thought I’d take the day off... rest a little. Feeling a little... sore.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why that would be.” Danny pushed past Steve to come into the house. “Come on, pack your bag.”

“My what?” Steve was sure he hadn’t heard right, as he closed the door and turned toward Danny.

“Your bag. Pack a bag. We’re going on vacation.” Danny was looking at him as though he was already exasperated, although Danny tended to do that a lot lately.

“What the hell are you talking about, Daniel?” Admittedly, part of Steve had thrilled at the word _vacation_ paired with the word _we_ , in the same sentence, coming from Danny’s lips... but most of him was just confused.

“I cannot trust you to take it easy unless I force you. I cannot control you on Oahu. So we’re going to Maui,” Danny explained, as if talking to an especially frustrating child.

Steve’s head was spinning. “Maui.”

“Yes, Maui. It’s an island. Southeast of here.” Again with that tone....

Steve had to sit down. He perched on the arm of the easy chair. “Okaaaay....”

“You got something against Maui?” Danny stayed standing, and he was looking impatient.

Steve was going to need some help processing this. Where was it coming from, why now... and why _oh, why Maui?_ “Well...” he took a deep breath. “It didn’t exactly go very well for us last time....”

“No, it did not,” Danny didn’t hide the cringe. “But that was because you planned it. This time, I’m in charge.”

Steve felt the corners of his mouth slowly turn up, almost against his will. Somewhere deep in his chest a warmth began to seep out. _Danny. In charge...._ (Not that Steve had spent much time daydreaming—uh, _thinking_ —about that.) The smile reached its apex, which resulted in Danny rolling his eyes and grabbing Steve by the arms, pulling him to standing, and shoving him (not all that gently, considering he was meant to be looking out for his physical well-being) towards the stairs.

“Gloat later. Pack now.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve’s clipped Navy tones sounded muffled in his ears as he found himself panicking about what to take on this little trip. Danny hadn’t said how long, but Steve figured it wouldn’t be more than two or three days. Finding himself hoping for the longer version, Steve tossed mostly swim suits and tee shirts in the ever-ready duffel on the back of his closet door.

Before his head could clear, before the idea could really sink in, they were on a plane to Maui. Sitting side by side, sipping mineral water with lemon, and looking out the window to the glittering blue water below them, bits of rainbows sprinkling the clouds. Steve’s heart felt lighter than it had in a while, and he found himself wanting to hold hands with Danny, but managed to stop himself just in time. It’s not a long flight, and Steve surprisingly enjoyed having others in control for once, so he sat back and began to relax.

Once in the familiar Maui airport, Steve felt the memories of that trip-gone-so-wrong begin to flood back, and to block them out (and also because he was feeling oddly romantic), he bought a lei and put it around a protesting Danny’s neck—with a kiss on the cheek that he was pretty sure left them pinker than they’d been.

He’d assumed they’d be going to a resort, albeit a different one from last time for obvious reasons, but rather than turning towards the resorty side of the island, the cab went north from the airport, and soon they were pulling up at a simple but tidy looking beachfront house. Trying to hide his smile, because this meant Danny planned on keeping him all to himself (which, hadn’t that been the main issue last time?), Steve followed Danny inside.

It was sleek and modern-looking compared to the somewhat rustic exterior. Warm wood floors, a comfy looking couch, a kitchen that opened up to the lanai, which led out to a sloping lawn with a view to the water.

“Wow, Danny, this is really nice.”

“Yeah, not bad,” Danny called as he headed up the stairs with the bags. Steve watched his partner, wondering just how much he was going to control this trip, with his placement of those bags.... But distracted himself from hoping too much by looking in the fridge.

Danny reappeared over his shoulder. “The fridge is stocked. Good food, healthy food. Even lots of eggs. You can have as many eggs as you like.”

“Is there beer?”

“You may have one beer in the evening.”

“Just one?”

“Two if you’re good.”

Pressing his lips together to keep another grin from taking over, Steve opened the sliding door to the back. “Shall we check it out?”

Danny nodded and followed.

It was a far cry from the over-landscaped resort lawns on Oahu, just neatly mown grass, and a strip of palms and rocks making a separation to the beach. He started wandering down towards the water, to see what the prospects were for activities, but Danny called to him before he got too far.

“Steven, look, a swimming pool.”

“Yes, that’s very nice. Is that a path to the beach?”

“No. Steven, this is a pool. It’s where normal people swim, okay?”

“But, Danny, look at that ocean!”

“The _pool_ , Steven.”

He was torn between being upset and actually kind of tickled that Danny was being so stern.

Danny pulled a lounge chair up next to the pool and sat down.

“I’m gonna sit here and read this book.”

“A book.”

“Yes, a book, Steven, surely you’ve heard of those.”

“What’s it about?”

“What do you mean, what’s it about, it’s a book.” As if to emphasize his point, he waved the book in Steve’s face.

“Yes, you’ve said,” Steve allowed. “And usually books are _about_ something.”

Danny sat and opened the book. “I have no idea. I haven’t read it yet.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he should push it. “That’s—alright.” He decided it wasn’t worth it. “I’ll go change to swim.”

Honestly, he was glad to have some time to explore the top floor... and the placement of their bags. It didn’t take long, as there were only two bedrooms. One was tiny and had two twin beds. Danny’s bag was on one of them. The other was much larger, had a king bed (with Steve’s duffel sitting on it), and a view of the ocean. No upstairs lanai here, but a beautiful, big picture window—a feature which was repeated in the attached bath, along with an enormous soaking tub, complete with jets and an assortment of bath salts and candles.

Obviously Danny was focusing on Steve to his own detriment. But Steve could change that. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d manage it if Danny was only planning on allowing them a couple beers, though. Tipsy Danny was much more pliable than sober Danny. Especially a sober Danny focused on being overly protective of Steve. (He sometimes wondered how it was that Danny was _more_ strict with Steve than he was with his own children.) But he could try.

Swimming always helped Steve think. Laps in a pool was a different thing entirely from his usual open-ocean swimming. And with Danny sitting watching him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to think at all. There was only one way to find out... and so he changed into a suit and pulled on a rash guard to hide the hideous bruise covering most of his abdomen and headed out to the pool.

Turned out, the repetitive flipping and limited view actually increased his ability to focus, and he came up with a general outline of a plan to get Danny in his bed that night. He’d have to wing it a bit, but then he’d proven he was fairly capable of that with the whole gun-powder-to-blow-the-lock trick. He had hopes of succeeding. First he had to get Danny to relax a bit. And that meant doing exactly as he was told. If Steve found the idea of that appealing rather than irritating, so much the better.

To that end, Steve stopped before he’d swum too much, flopped out of the pool and into a chair next to Danny, narrowly avoiding splashing the pages of the book Steve was fairly sure Danny wasn’t actually reading.

“How’s the book?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, fine.” He set the book down, not bothering to mark his page, and stood up. “You should drink some water. I’ll go get it.”

Steve was stunned. If Danny was planning on waiting on him hand and foot for the whole trip.... Okay, maybe Steve wouldn’t complain. Too much. But there was no way Steve would let Danny wear himself out with this. He added an element to his plan for the evening. He heard the sliding glass door close, and knew Danny was coming back, so he schooled his face into something a little less conniving than it had been moments before.

“What’re you plotting, Steven?” Evidently he hadn’t been quick enough. Although, his back had been to Danny. _How’d he...? Huh_.

“Just thinking about dinner,” Steve tried, hoping Danny would buy it.

“I was thinking grill some chicken, make a salad...?” Danny seemed to fall for it.

Now that Danny mentioned it, Steve realized he did have something in mind. “Actually, I was kind of hoping you would make more of your Grandma’s recipes....” He watched Danny’s face for a reaction.

He wasn’t disappointed. A pleased expression—one he didn’t often see on his partner—flitted across Danny’s face. _He didn’t expect that_ , Steve realized.

“Yeah?” His tone was soft, kind of awed, and definitely flattered.

This could work to Steve’s advantage, so he went with it. “Yeah, Danny, that food was amazing.”

Danny handed the water bottle to Steve and sat back down. “Well. I guess I could make something....”

“I can help,” Steve suggested, finding he actually wanted to. He took a drink of the water.

Danny reacted immediately: “Oh no you don’t, you’re resting.”

Almost choking on his water, Steve sputtered. “Danny, how is helping you cook _not_ resting? Really. I’d love to help.”

And so Steve found himself wearing an apron and stirring a pot of sauce, and utterly enthralled watching Danny move around the kitchen tasting this, adding things here and there. The pantry was surprisingly well stocked, and Steve wondered how much of that had been Danny and how much was just luck.

They ate at the table, and Steve got Danny to let them have a bottle of wine (because, Italian food), and Steve was pretty sure he earned himself more points by asking about Charlie’s latest school project, and specifically _not_ asking about Grace and a certain young man.

When they’d finished eating, Steve started to put his plan into action. “Can we at least go for a walk on the beach? I promise I won’t try and go in the water. Just stay on the sand.”

Danny acquiesced. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” and Steve felt encouraged.

As they walked, slowly, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting a little, Steve found he was once more having a hard time _not_ holding Danny’s hand. A couple times their hands brushed up against each other, and Steve felt a tingle of electricity each time. He drew hope from the fact that neither time did Danny move further away.

Before they’d gone very far, Danny turned them back to the house. “We could both use an early night,” he said, as if in explanation.

“I saw that soaker tub,” Steve began, hesitantly. “If you’d like...” Danny looked over at him. Didn’t pause his stride, but kept looking. Steve had a hard time finishing the thought—what he _wanted_ to say was threatening to come out instead of what he knew he _should_ say. “I mean, it’d be a shame not to make use of it....” _Still not being clear_. His better judgment won out. “I could light some of those scented candles you love, you deserve some pampering too, buddy.” There. That was... safe. Right?

His heart almost stopped when he thought for a split second that Danny looked _disappointed_.

“Naw, you use it. I gave you that room on purpose. You need to relax. There’s lavender bath salts, Kono swears by them when she’s been beat up.”

So, Danny’d been talking with Kono about bath salts? Curious. A thought flashed through his mind that maybe it was somehow through Kono that Danny’d known about this place, but he didn’t have time to explore the idea, because Danny started talking about how he’d do the dishes while Steve went up and had a bath, and really, this had to be the oddest experience of Steve’s life... Danny cooking and cleaning for him, and telling him how to run a bath, when to put the bath salts in, and not to pick too heavily scented a candle, because he didn’t want to drown out the lavender.... His head was spinning again. By the time they got back to the house, Steve had agreed that some chamomile tea sounded nice, and sure, Danny could bring him some while he had his bath....

Which explains why Steve got himself naked and in that bath as quickly as he could, so that Danny would have to come in to give him the tea. He needn’t have hurried, as Danny took a surprisingly long time. Steve had selected three candles that didn’t seem to have much scent, and the light glinted off the picture window, almost hypnotizing Steve. The lavender was actually really nice, and he did feel relaxed. By the time Danny knocked on the door, the tub was full, the jets were going, and a foamy froth was covering all the bits of Steve that could have proved embarrassing—namely, those awful bruises that were just darkening to midnight blue.

“Sorry that took so long. I wanted to wash the dishes first.” Danny handed Steve his tea, and evidently didn’t plan on leaving, as he set a towel down on the edge of the tub, and sat, leaning back against the wall, and pulling his feet up to dangle in. Steve’s heart sped impossibly up as Danny let his toes swirl around in the bubbles, knocking incidentally (or not?) against Steve’s, and coming to rest just there. “Isn’t this nice.”

Steve wasn’t surprise his voice sounded odd when he replied: “Yeah, it sure is.”

They sat like that for a while, then as Steve finished his tea, Danny stirred. “I’d better go get ready for bed.”

Steve swallowed, and made his move.

“You’re not really going to sleep in that twin bed, are you?”

Danny stopped in his tracks. He appeared to gather himself before he turned back around to face Steve, who was still in the bath. “There is nothing wrong with twin beds, Steven. I understand you are a Neanderthal and would fall out, but the rest of us normal people are just fine.”

“It’s a big bed, Danny, you won’t even know I’m in it.”

“ _That_ is not likely.”

“Come on, I promise.”

“I’m pretty sure you sleep like an octopus.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Arms and legs everywhere, all splayed out....”

“You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you? I promise I won’t. Besides, how’re you gonna keep an eye on me otherwise? There’s no telling what I might get up to.”

Danny seemed to be struggling with something. He sighed. “You have a point there.”

Steve could feel victory within his grasp. “Really, you’d not sleep well, worrying about me....”

Danny turned back to the door before he replied, but Steve was pretty sure he was smiling. “Get in bed, Steven.”

It’s really hard to brush your teeth when you’re struggling to keep your heart rate from going through the roof, but somehow Steve managed. He even managed to floss, if probably a little too cursorily, and was in his tee and sleep shorts, under the covers very far to one side of the bed, by the time Danny came back in with a strange look on his face and a small toiletries bag, which he set on the bedside table before turning out his light.

“You’d better hope I don’t regret this,” he murmured as he pulled back the covers, turning on his side to face Steve.

“You won’t,” Steve promised, and turned, likewise, to face Danny. He couldn’t hide the grimace when his bruised insides protested.

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Danny mumbled, and reached over for the small bag, pulling out a tube. “Take your shirt off.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up before he could stop them. Danny scoffed. “Here, I’ll do it,” and he sat up, tugging Steve’s shirt gently up past the bruise (how’d he know exactly where it was?), and squeezed some of the gel out, warming it in his hands before rubbing it very softly into Steve’s skin. So, the shivers that went through Steve’s body were not because the ointment was cold.

Danny slowed as he felt the movement, but didn’t stop. “Does that hurt?” He asked, almost under his breath.

“A little,” Steve admitted, closing his eyes. “But don’t stop.”

“What am I going to do with you,” Danny sighed as he pulled Steve’s shirt back down and put the tube away.

“I like you taking care of me, it’s nice.”

“Go to sleep, Steven.”

Maybe it was the gel, maybe it was the lavender, maybe it was the company, but Steve slept really well.

And so the next two days went much the same.... Steve swam, Danny read (or more likely didn’t—he never could tell Steve what the book was about), they cooked together, went for walks on the beach, and each night Steve had a bath while Danny sat at the foot of the tub and rested his toes against Steve’s, after which Danny rubbed ointment on Steve’s bruise, and they slept, soundly and not touching, in the same bed.

But on the flight home, Steve reached out to hold Danny’s hand, and Danny smiled.


	28. ...Like I Need a Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not a continuation of the chapter I posted yesterday.....)
> 
> Huh, look at that, another “Steve shows up at Danny’s door in the middle of the night” story.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably deserves an “I just don’t even know” tag. I guess chapter 27 opened the "hurt/comfort" flood gates which have probably been a little jammed lately, so this came flooding out this morning. Rough, very rough, but that fits the story, so I'm leaving it and posting it right away, and there you go. :-)

Danny was having a mostly pleasant evening at home. He’d made himself a decent meal, opened himself a marginal bottle of wine, and was attempting to read a book and watch a movie, yeah, at the same time. So maybe he was drowning out, or trying to drown out the fact that he was very much alone.

The kids had been busy, and even when they came over that week, had been too caught up in their own things to pay him much attention other than “can we get pizza again?” and “I have to get this homework done, Danno.”

Steve... well. He’d been somewhat cagey lately. He’d been putting Danny on cases with Kono or Lou, and he’d been working mostly with Chin. About fourteen different scenarios about why that might have been had taken turns in Danny’s obsessive, worry-ridden mind, and none of them had felt very good.

And so it was that at around about eleven that night, Danny was sitting on the sofa, book open on his lap, movie credits scrolling on the TV, half full wine glass sitting on the coffee table mostly untouched, while Danny sank further and further into a sink hole of dark thoughts.

So, if he jumped up, book falling to the ground, when he heard a knock on his door, well, you probably would have as well.

In retrospect, he realized he really should have seen it coming.

“Jesus, Steve, you look like shit.”

Not bothering to deny Danny’s assessment, Steve merely grunted and stumbled through the doorway.

“Okay, okay, not on the sofa, please. God. Go take a shower, would you?” Danny put his hands carefully on Steve’s waist and steered him towards his bedroom. Steve managed to climb into the shower, clothes still on, and strip off once there. Danny brought a laundry basket from the closet and motioned for Steve to put his things in it. “Shit,” Danny muttered as the extent of the damage was revealed. “You look like I need a drink.” He dropped the laundry basket on the floor, and headed out, calling over his shoulder: “Use lots of soap, please, Steven.”

Once in the kitchen, drawn to the whiskey bottle from some self-preserving instinct, Danny leaned his hands on the counter and took several deep breaths. Uttering _shit_ repeatedly as a calming mantra, and banging his hands harshly against the edge of the counter in an effort to use the pain to focus, Danny felt himself go into automatic, pushing his feelings as far down as he could, swallowing a huge gulp of whiskey so fast he choked on it, pouring another for himself, one for Steve, and grabbing the bottle of pain killer from next to the coffee machine (handy for mornings rather too often lately, if you see what I mean).

When he worked up the courage to go back to his bathroom, he was met with a wall of steam. How unlike Steve to linger any longer than strictly necessary. Yeah, that didn’t help Danny’s heart any.

“You clean?” Danny called through the mist.

Steve answered by shutting off the shower, and reaching a battered hand out for a towel.

Danny pulled a fresh one off the rack behind the door and put it in Steve’s grasp.

When he stepped out, kind of dry, and wrapped in the towel, Danny could see that most of the damage had washed away, so his heart settled a little. There was one decent gash across Steve’s shoulder, but that actually looked older. His knuckles were the worst. Given that Steve only punched when he was really angry, tending to prefer kicks and ninja style arm moves over straight out punching most of the time, Danny swallowed down a lump of concern.

“Drink? Or Drugs?” Danny offered, holding out the glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle of pain killer in the other.

Steve just shook his head, and Danny moved to the bedroom, placing them both on the side table before moving to his dresser to find some clothes for Steve. He wasn’t about to let Steve out of his sight, but he was also not about to let him into his bed less than fully clothed. Throwing a tee and some shorts his way, Danny went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth and grab his own sleep clothes. By the time he came back in, Steve had laid down, on top of the covers, far on the edge of the bed.

Taking a moment in the doorway to muse that, really, he should have imagined _this_ would be how he’d finally get the man in his bed, Danny sighed, pushed off the door frame, and forced himself to the other side of the bed.

Hesitating before he climbed in, Danny looked at the glass of whiskey he’d left by his own bedside, but turned away, toward the reason he needed ten more drinks.

“Alright. What the fuck happened?” He asked the unmoving back.

Unsurprisingly, the back didn’t answer.

Allowing himself an overly dramatic sigh, Danny pulled the covers back and slid into bed, reaching over and tugging them down, under Steve’s hulk of a body, none too gently, to be honest—hoping the jostling motion would get a reaction out of him, even if it meant it hurt. Steve didn’t react, but he did roll over, allowing himself to be pulled under the covers, and closer to Danny. Now Danny could see his face more clearly, he really didn’t like what he saw. There were no marks there, everything had washed away, so the idea that this hadn’t been a fight, but entirely self-inflicted gained strength. The look in those puppy-like hazel eyes reinforced the notion, especially once Danny allowed himself a scolding glare.

But still Steve said nothing.

Danny softened. “Alright. No talking. That’s fine. But you gotta come here then,” and he opened his arms out and motioned for Steve to enter them.

Danny saw the gulp, knew Steve was swallowing tears, but he didn’t move.

Sighing more normally this time, Danny simply scooted over, and wrapped an arm over Steve’s non-gashed shoulder, tugging gently and at the same time moving himself closer, so that Steve settled, stiffly, against Danny in the middle of the bed. Hugging him in toward his chest, his hand coming to rest on the back of Steve’s head, Danny murmured “It’s alright, just rest,” and proceeded to run his fingers slowly through Steve’s hair.

Eventually he felt Steve’s body begin to relax, and he smiled slightly, keeping his hand moving through that surprisingly soft hair.

“Danny....”

Danny swallowed. Steve’s voice sounded raw with emotion, and that was not something he could easily take. It wasn’t a sound he had much experience coping with. “Shhhh,” he responded. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.”

“No, Danny, I do....” Steve protested. “I owe you all kinds of explaining.”

 _That sounded ominous_ , Danny thought. “Babe, you really don’t.” Something inside Danny was beginning to think he knew what was going on, what had been going on. For quite a while now.

It had started several months ago. Probably it had truly started with Kono’s “They’re in love again” comment. It had been playful at first. Like their old joking, teasing, giving each other a hard time... only there’d slowly been this edge to it. And gradually, Steve had started working more with Chin. And making Danny work more with Lou. And spending less time with Danny. It had happened so slowly, Danny’s awareness of it had remained more a vague sense rather than anything that seriously pushed at him. But Steve’s appearance at his door, beat-up but seemingly by himself, had shifted something deep within Danny, and he was slowly realizing that he’d been aware, on some level, of what was going on in his partner’s muddled head.

Steve sighed, and settled a little more deeply into the bed next to Danny. Not relaxed, exactly, but more like giving in to what was happening... or at least, fighting it less.

 _Fighting it_. That was such an interesting turn of phrase, wasn’t it. Especially as it was becoming clear to Danny that _fighting_ it was exactly what Steve had been doing. Until it had come to literally fighting it. Danny wondered if he’d find a wall or a cabinet had taken the brunt of Steve’s pent up frustrations, or if it had happened somewhere less private. He hoped not. For both their sakes. None of that really mattered right now, however... as Danny felt his own resistance had been slowly evaporating away, much as the bathroom steam had vanished. What he was finding he was left with wasn’t very clear, and it wasn’t easy to admit, and it wasn’t like some lightning bolt, and he wasn’t at all sure it wasn’t a spectacularly horrible idea. But there just didn’t seem to be any choice about it. He found his hand moving down from Steve’s head, to rest on his jaw. When Steve met his eyes, the look there was somewhere between relief and terror, which was pretty much how he felt as well, and he might have laughed a little. And then Steve was lunging forward, grabbing the back of Danny’s head and crushing their mouths together, more a clash of teeth and tongue than an actual kiss. It wasn’t romantic or electric or even passionate so much as it was _desperate_ , and it wasn’t more than a couple seconds before Danny knew it wasn’t going anywhere good and pulled back.

“Just... okay. Okay, just....” Danny could barely breathe, and he needed space, needed air, why was there no air in his bedroom? He sat up, and ran his hands through his hair. Steve had flopped on his back with a guttural sound that shook the bed, vibrating in Danny’s toes, up through his skull.

“I’m sorry,” Steve eventually sighed.

Danny turned on him. “Yeah. You should be.”

“ _Danny_....” He’d never heard Steve sound so pleading.

“No, just.... Just give me a sec, okay?” He gave his hair one last shake with his hands, then turned to face Steve.

“You’ve been pushing me away.” Steve cringed. “No, do not deny it, you have. You did it really slowly, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure it was happening because there’s been so much going on, but it’s what you’ve been doing.” He took a deep breath. “And I think I know why.”

“ _Danny_....” It was less pleading but more anguished this time.

“No. You just. No.” He leaned over, closer to Steve, grabbing onto his arms, none too gently. “How could you? Why? Why would you do that? Why push me away, huh? Why was _that_ what you decided was the right thing to do? Clearly it wasn’t. Clearly you knew that, even if you tried to pretend otherwise. What did you do to yourself? Huh? What have you been doing? Why? Why....” He had to stop and figure out how to breathe. Why was that so hard to do tonight? “When all you had to do was this.” And he fell against Steve and kissed him. Slowly this time, softly this time. For a few moments only, and then he sat back up and put his hands back on his head. “You stupid, stupid jerk.”

His eyes were closed. Surprisingly dry, but closed. So he felt rather than saw Steve slowly sit up. Felt those strong, battered arms wrap firmly around him. Shuddered as Steve’s hands came up to hold Danny’s hands on his head. Felt the vibrations in Steve’s chest as he let out a regretful growl of frustration. Gave in to the tug on his hands, and collapsed into Steve, falling against his chest, Steve’s hands holding his head against him, rocking him, and whispering in choked tones “I’m so sorry, Danny. I’m so sorry.”

Danny felt an involuntary pulse flood through him, and when it passed he felt like he could breathe, finally. He felt like laughing. He felt like hitting Steve, as much as he’d hit whatever he had that night. Felt like pushing him away, pulling him close, kissing him, punching him... all at the same time. It was too much to take and not even close to enough.

Steve fell back on the bed, and Danny fell against him. Arms and legs were holding Danny, he couldn’t move, and it took finding he was being squeezed awfully hard to realize he was actually fighting against Steve’s hold on him.

“Okay, okay... stop, Steve, stop. Let go.”

“No, Daniel. I’m not letting go. I’m not ever letting go....”

Danny stopped fighting. _There was that word again_. And he let out a breath that was close to a laugh, if a bitter one. “Alright. You win. You win. Of course you do. You always do.” And Steve released him, which was probably a mistake, as Danny turned around and shoved him, _hard_ , in the chest. “Just stop, okay? Stop pushing me away.”

Steve nodded. His eyes were red but dry. He held his arms open, an invitation to Danny to fall back down into them. Instead, Danny moved to Steve's side, and turned on his back, so they were side by side, but with some space between them. He found Steve’s hand and held it, painfully tightly—he felt Steve suck a breath in on a gasp, but he kept his hold tight, wanting to make Steve remember the pain, not wanting to let him think he would forget, wanting that memory sealed with this, because pain would always be part of them, fighting would always be part of them... fighting for each other, fighting with each other... it had been them from the beginning and that would never change. Not even with this.

They didn’t talk any more that night. And they didn’t really sleep. They drifted a bit, but Danny would squeeze that bruised hand, and they’d both return to the awareness of what they were beginning.

By the time the light broke through the morning clouds, they were exhausted, sore, and drained. And on that emptiness, in that space created by their vigil, almost like a cleansing, they turned and looked at each other.

“Alright. Are we doing this?” Danny squeezed Steve’s hand one last time, then let it go.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Danny. We are.”

Danny got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “You’d better take me on a date tonight then,” he murmured as he went.

“Pick you up at seven,” came the reply just before he closed the door.


	29. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Not a continuation.)  
> Danny ends up at Steve’s after a rough case... because, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I just write what my feelings demand......)

“Danny.”

“Babe, really? It’s past midnight. Go to sleep.”

A sigh. The sound of something rustling. “Danny....”

“Alright, what is it.”

The sound of him swallowing. An inhalation, sharply... a breath held. And a slow exhalation, a calming breath. Danny knows that sound, knows it too well, though usually not in his ear in the middle of the night. A thought which sends a shiver down his spine. But no answer.

“What, Steve.”

Another rustling, a bit of a grunt. Danny can almost picture Steve tossing in his bed, fighting against whatever it was that prompted him to call Danny in the first place. Which can’t have been anything good. And still no response.

“Dangit Steven,” he lets his breath out, forcing himself to stay still. He wants to get up, wants to run to Steve, whatever this is, whatever has him sighing, calling Danny, and _not talking_. Whatever it is, Danny wants to make it go away. Thinks he _could_ make it go away, if only Steve would let him. Pinching himself, he lets his breath out slowly, calms himself. Tries again. “Steve, either you use words and talk to me right now, or I’m coming over there.”

The sound of a bitter laugh, cut off, either by a hand or the press of lips held together, bitten together perhaps. And Danny gets it. Like a punch in the gut. Or a glass of ice water in the face. And yes, he’s experienced both. He prefers the punch in the gut. In case you wondered about that.

“Okay.” And he hangs up without another word. Pulls on a shirt, some pants, finds shoes by the door, pockets his phone, his wallet, and climbs in the car before he can think twice about what he’s about to do.

Fortunately, he knows the way to Steve’s so well he could drive it blindfolded, because he comes closer to that than he ever has before.

 _Shit, this week_. They really need to adopt some kind of system for making sure that only one of them ends up on the really awful cases, or Danny’s just going to start sleeping at Steve’s place.

It’s never the day after a brutal case. Maybe it’s the adrenalin, maybe it’s just training—which is still strong enough to get Steve through the first 24 hours. But somehow, something has changed regarding his ability to get through the next 24.

He was a pain in the ass, frankly, that day. And Danny’s kicking himself that he didn’t see this coming, didn’t do something to prevent it. Fuck knows what that could have been... other than going home with Steve that night.

Twice Steve’s wound up at Danny’s after cases that just got to be too much, went too deep.... Danny keeps a list, though he doesn’t need to. Fathers and sons, military men, are obvious issues that get too far under Steve’s thinning skin. But the themes are broadening. Teenage girls, once Grace hit thirteen and Steve began to realize what that meant. Especially since that awful winter formal experience. Danny swears Steve was more traumatized by that than he was.

Danny doesn’t have the luxury of considering the issue any further because he’s pulled up in front of Steve’s and he’s not giving himself a chance to stop and think, he’s out of the car and down the path before his better voices can calm him down. This has been too long in coming, and it has to change, it has to stop, and it stops now.

Either Steve got himself out of bed to unlock the door for Danny, or he, worryingly, never locked it in the first place. Danny is pissed in either case. They’ve exchanged words about this. Hell, they’ve practically exchanged fists over this. Swearing to himself as he locks the door behind him, toeing his shoes off before he hits the stairs—not from any need for stealth, more from some kind of desire to not be wearing the dang shoes when he gets there.

Steve has his back to the door, which pisses Danny off further. He permits himself a dramatic rolling of the eyes, and settles against the door frame. For about five seconds he thinks about letting into Steve—for the door, for the complete and utter lack of personal security, especially at the end of a series of days that once more reminded them all that there are plenty of people on this island and off it who would be perfectly content if Steven J. McGarrett would simply cease to exist. But six seconds of taking in that broad back, rigid with tension, immobilized with either an internal trust in Danny, or a total lack of concern for his own wellbeing, and Danny can’t hold himself still any longer.

Steve’s top half is bare, so it seems only right. He takes his own shirt off. Sliding into bed next to Steve, he wraps an arm around the broad chest, pulling—probably too hard but it seems called for, forcing Steve to fall against Danny’s own bare chest. It’s worth it, for the gasp, the sharp intake of breath, the exact tone of which is either pain or pleasure—it’s impossible to be sure and in either case, with Steve, it’s probably just about the same thing anyway.

Danny lets his head fall forward onto Steve’s shoulder blade, then brings his chin up and bites, hard, right at the ridge of Steve’s neck. It’s less ambiguous this time: the gasp is clearly one of pleasure, and Danny knows that blow to the gut he felt before was on: right fucking _on_. And _shit_ , he thinks, there’s nothing for it now but to just _go_.

He grabs Steve by the upper arm and flips him around, because if this is what they’re doing now, they’re damn sure looking at each other as they do it. He’s seen it coming, watched it come close to breaking through the stupid thick layer of “we’re just friends,” only to recede to the background—swept under the rug, watched Steve try to ignore it. But all the while it’s been building: pressure mounting, sparking on random Thursday afternoons, over coffee and debriefings, stupid meaningless things that suddenly become so taut you could bounce coins off them, tension so thick Danny could barely grasp how anyone else could be in the room with them and not be crushed by the weight of it.

But he’s not about to let this go without saying a few choice words. _Fuck you, you fucking idiot stop being a complete jackass_ is what he wants to say, but instead what comes out is “Steven, I swear to god, if you don’t take better care of yourself, I am going to do it for you,” and he’s prepared for a smirk, but what he gets instead is a sound like a man finally breaking the surface after nearly drowning, and Steve’s crushing Danny to his chest, clawing at him with nails Danny never realized Steve had, and there’s blood, though there probably already was, they were both so battered from the other day, inside and out—hearts, minds, spirits, bodies—battered and bruised, blood shed, tears _not_ shed, only they come now... too fast and too many, and they’re choking on them, and they fall... crashing, off the edge of the bed, and they’re holding on so tight, and Steve is holding Danny so tenderly now, it breaks his heart, only his heart is so broken already that it feels more like it’s being put back together, only the wrong way round, and maybe that’s just what it’s going to feel like now... his heart is just wrong, inside out or back to front or something, but it feels, finally, just _right_.

And they’re laughing, salt flavoring their kisses, calloused fingers touching cuts and bruises as if they could heal, just by acknowledging them, and maybe they can, maybe that’s what it takes—seeing the wound, accepting the wound, allowing it... admitting how much it _hurts_.

“I can’t...” Steve begins, breaks off to kiss the top of Danny’s head, which he’s cradled on his chest. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong, I just can’t deal anymore.”

Danny nods. “I know.” He raises up to look at Steve. “I think we’re getting old, babe,” he whispers, as he touches a cut at the corner of Steve’s eye that probably should have had stitches.

Steve grabs Danny’s hand, brings it to his lips and holds it there. “Stay with me.”

“Yeah, babe, obviously,” Danny tucks himself into Steve’s side, feeling surprised at how well he fits there, then thinks he shouldn’t be the least bit shocked by that.

“No, I mean... _stay_.”

Danny pulls back enough to look into Steve’s eyes. He nods. Swallows thickly. “I know.” He rests his head back down on Steve’s arm. “Maybe we should get back in the bed, though. I think I’m too old to sleep on the floor.”

Steve chuckles, a deep sound that seems different somehow, from how Steve’s laughs usually sound, then Danny realizes he’s _feeling_ it, as well as hearing it, and the thought sends a jolt through his blood, and he pushes up on his arms, over Steve, and presses himself down on top of him, his entire height fitting on Steve, all of him off the floor.

That earns him the smirk after all. “That work for you? Or do you still want back in the bed?”

Danny lets go his arms, so his full weight comes to rest on Steve, but of course Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He wraps his arms around Danny, pulls him even closer.

“Alright,” Steve murmurs into Danny’s hair. “Works for me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d regret that by morning.”

A growl reverberates deep within Steve’s chest. “Never. Not this. Never this.”

Danny almost rolls his eyes, but there’s this tone of relief, of home, in Steve’s words, and he feels it too. He puts his arms back down and pushes up off Steve. “Bed, then,” he places a kiss on Steve’s forehead, where a bruise is already fading. “Please.”

“Alright, old man,” Steve replies, pressing up into Danny, gathering him in his arms, and with some magical reserve of strength, maneuvers them both back onto the bed, landing with Danny in his arms, and bringing a leg up to twine with Danny’s, holding him in place, as if to reassert his command of _stay_.

One more shudder washes over Danny’s body, and Steve holds him tighter in response, and it’s as if that pent up tension is starting to leak out, and they fall into a deep, deep sleep that seems to say this was what was needed, all along, and when they wake, rather too late in the morning, it’s to their phones going off at the same time, with a text from Kono, who clearly wondered why neither of them was in the office yet and evidently tracked their cell phones. Just one word: _Finally_.


	30. Sailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Episode S7E22.  
> At the end of the day, after Steve goes through his grandfather’s stuff, Danny comes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Sophie23.  
> I think I tried three or four different angles on a BYS for episode 22. In the end, this is what felt right. I hope you enjoy it. :-)

Reluctantly, Steve put the trunk away. Two of the photographs, he kept out: one of his grandparents together, and one of his grandfather in his uniform. He put them, along with the Purple Heart, on his dresser, promising himself he’d get a proper frame and display case for it over the weekend. Very much feeling the need for a drink, he went downstairs, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and a glass, and wandered aimlessly around the living room for a bit before being drawn, inevitably, out to the water.

Probably there was something sweeping and romantic about the notion, but he had always felt a connection to the man he’d never known, through the water. Most often when he was on a boat, but sometimes when he swam, sometimes when he was just next to the ocean. He set the bottle down on the table between the chairs, and with the glass in his hand wandered to the water’s edge, kicking the waves gently, not minding that his pants were getting wet—finding it oddly appropriate.

He didn’t want to descend into some deep dark self-absorbed gloom over this. But something about learning exactly what had happened had settled in his chest and wouldn’t let go. That choice. The moment of making _that_ choice. _Knowing what it meant_. Unhesitatingly making that choice.

Steve got it, a little bit. There had been more times than he could ever count where he’d gone in knowing he might not come out. You can’t choose the career path he had and not know that was simply part of the bargain. His “self-sacrificing tendencies” had been a favorite topic of Danny’s on numerous occasions. But most of the time, in complete honesty, Steve trusted he’d make it out. Maybe he didn’t exactly think logically about it, but there was this sense, this gut instinct, and maybe it was false—self-protectively so—but this feeling that he was safe, even as he dodged and dove. A good part of the time he was simply willing to be hurt in order to protect those behind him. “I’m taking point on this one” were words he didn’t often bother to say any more, it went without saying: He went in first. Danny’d stopped fighting him on it ages ago, although he did sometimes hold him back. “Wait for backup” was no longer Danny’s most often used phrase, but that was probably only because he could do it with a look now.

But there had not been any possibility of an _out_ for his grandfather, going back down in that ship. And he’d known it; he’d gone in, against the tide of everyone running the other way. Steve could close his eyes and see it. Feel it. He he could touch the sides of the ship, feel the heat from the flames, wanted to choke on the smoke.

He’d connected with his grandfather, over this new knowledge, more than he ever had before, because he knew what that feeling was. And Steve’s heart would never be the same. He couldn’t question whether he’d have done what his grandfather had—for him it would never be a conscious, specific choice, it would always be the choice he’d already made. But it _had_ been a choice for his grandfather. He hadn’t been some super jacked up ninja Navy SEAL... he was just a sailor. Yes, it was a time of war, even if the US hadn’t been officially involved yet. But there was an idealism about being in the Navy. Sailors were an odd mix of pessimism and the strangest kind of liquid hope. Danny made jokes about it, but it was to some extent true. Of all the branches of the military, the Navy was the most... _mystical_. There was something about being willing to be out at sea, floating on bits of wood and metal, over a deadly, nearly endless abyss, and believing you’d always, somehow, make it back to land.

Steve had drifted off into musing about no-win scenarios, and had poured himself another drink and collapsed onto one of the chairs, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Golden blond movement, that swagger he’d recognize anywhere. His heart, somewhat against his will, lifted. Part of him wanted to wallow, to mope, to sink down deeper, to get at this tugging he felt from the bottom of his heart. But he knew it felt like drowning, and nothing drew him to the surface quite like Danny; even if he wanted to lose himself in his sorrows, he would never be able to finish it with Danny at his side.

Danny was holding a glass. Nothing else, just a glass. Without speaking, he poured himself a substantial amount of whiskey, downed it in one, and putting the glass down on the table with a thud, sank into the other chair.

Steve felt the corners of his mouth go up, just slightly. He didn’t wonder how Danny had known where he was and what he was doing. It didn’t surprise him that Danny had instinctively caught up exactly to his whiskey level in one go. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, at what that meant, but then it settled a bit more back into itself. Danny was here to anchor him. Steve knew that. Trusted in it, believed in it implicitly—he had from the very beginning with Danny, but then that trust had grown, slowly, steadily, over the years, and he knew he could rely completely on it now. So he poured them both another shot, and they clinked glasses without looking at each other or saying anything. They both drank and then held on to their glasses.

After a bit, Steve glanced over at Danny. He was staring out into the waves, as if they might tell him something, share their knowledge, impart some oceanic wisdom. Steve knew Danny felt like he was missing out, when it came to the whole Navy thing. Like he’d been left out of some club. Secret codes he’d never understand, principles of life that just didn’t make sense to his ears.

“Will you go sailing with me?”

Steve wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but suddenly it seemed like the right thing to do. That by sharing it with Danny, he’d be honoring his grandfather. And maybe Danny would start to get it. Steve wanted Danny to get it. Maybe he _needed_ Danny to get it.

Danny looked almost as though he’d seen it coming, which kind of blew Steve’s mind. He turned and smiled at him, kind of a sad smile, but an affectionate one. It was an expression Steve thought he was beginning to recognize. Still Danny didn’t speak, he just nodded, softly, and then placed his glass down, reached out for Steve’s and poured them both another drink. This time, they locked eyes while they toasted. Then they sat back, both kicking their legs out into the sand, and watched the waves till the sun had set.

As the wind began to pick up in the darkening sky, Danny stood, gathered the glasses and the bottle, motioned with his head back to the house.

Steve stood, a little shaky—not from the whiskey, but from too much thinking. He slung an arm around Danny, pulling him close, and they walked up the slope to the lanai. Danny put the glasses down on the table, pulled a chair out and steered Steve into it, and went inside. Moments later he was back with sandwiches from his favorite deli. Steve felt a welling inside him, much like that feeling of support when you’re lifted by a wave, and it seemed to him that Danny and the ocean had more in common than either of them realized. They both were solidly imprinted in Steve’s blood and bones; both were profoundly essential to his survival. It was a revelatory thought, and Steve felt like it was transforming his very being as it flowed through him.

While they ate, Steve noticed Danny was watching him closely, like he was looking for signs of something, trying to work out what was going on inside him. Steve couldn’t decide if it seemed like Danny could tell or not, but when they finished eating, Danny got up and led Steve upstairs to his room.

“Want me to stay?”

Steve’s first instinct was to say _no_. But he knew it wasn’t what he meant, and he figured that even if he said no, Danny’d probably stay anyway. He’d been like that lately. At first Steve had thought it was because of this case—Danny had been remarkably attuned to him during it—but now he thought more likely it had started a while ago, he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention to notice. So he nodded as he tried not to look too relieved, and headed to the shower before he felt overly exposed.

Nothing like some hydrotherapy to connect him back to himself... but this time it didn’t work as well as it usually did. Maybe he was too distracted by Danny’s presence in his bedroom. When he came out from his shower, he found Danny sitting on the bed, the two photos laid out next to him. He looked tired and careworn. Swallowing around that lump that had settled in his throat the first time he’d watched the interview and didn’t seem like it planned on going away anytime soon, Steve was pretty sure he knew what the look on Danny’s face meant.

“You’re worried that I’ll do it....”

Danny smiled. “Yes, but that’s nothing new.”

“But it worries you.”

“Constantly.” Still Danny was smiling. He stood and put the photos back on the dresser, walking over to Steve. “Babe, I’ve known this about you from the beginning.” He reached out and placed his hand on Steve’s chest, just above his heart. “It’s nice to know it’s in your blood....” And he went to get ready for bed.

While Danny was in the bathroom, Steve sat down on the bed, facing the photos. He looked intently at them, as if he could tell his grandmother that he knew, that he got it, that he’d have done the same thing. He wasn’t at all sure it would have mattered to her. Or to Deb. But he knew it would have to his dad. He would give anything to have been able to tell his dad....

Danny didn’t linger in the bathroom—maybe Steve’s harping about Navy length showers was finally wearing off on him, or maybe he just didn’t want to leave Steve alone for too long. Either way, his presence was easing Steve’s heart, and for that he was grateful. When Danny looked at him as he neared the bed, something passed between them he was pretty sure neither of them fully understood. It was almost as though it came, not from either of them, but from something evoked by the presence of the photos, some sense of _take it now while you still can_. Danny crawled onto the bed, sat down behind Steve, and wrapped his arms around him, leaning in and resting his head on Steve’s back, as though he’d done it many times before, as though it was where he belonged, and indeed, it felt like he did—he fit perfectly against the curve of Steve’s back. Closing his eyes, Steve relaxed into the contact, felt his eyes sting as he swallowed around that lump, which seemed like it had shifted a little. Reaching a hand up to squeeze one of Danny’s, he pressed back, wanting to be closer. “Thanks, buddy,” he whispered.

In response, Danny rumbled something incoherent, the sound echoing in Steve’s chest. He tightened his hold on Steve. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?” Releasing Steve he leaned back, and they came to rest beside each other. Danny turned in toward Steve and wrapped his arm around him again, whispering onto his skin: “In the morning, you can tell me about this sailing trip you’re going to take me on.”

Steve felt his heart swell again, like a wave, and he knew that everything was about to change.


	31. Not Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something I needed today.... :-)

It’s been a rough week. No one would dispute that. Usually after a week like this, Steve wants to have the whole team over for a BBQ on the beach, or at least hang at Kaemekona’s for a good few hours. But not today. He can’t really explain it, and maybe he’s just _that_ tired, but he’s not feeling “up” for a loud gathering, doesn’t really want to “hang” with the team.

For a long moment he feels guilty about that, but then he looks at the faces around him and realizes they’re all feeling the same way. In the next moment he realizes, too, that they’re all waiting for him to make the call, so he pats them all on the back and says “Go home, get some rest. See you Monday.”

He can almost hear their relief, and he watches them leave, feeling his own lightened load at not having to play the supportive, encouraging team leader. Not having to force anything. Deciding he’s looking forward to a lazy night on his own, he turns around and catches Danny looking at him with an appraising expression on his face.

“What?” He asks, feeling a prickle of apprehension flutter across his skin.

Danny doesn’t respond, just shakes his head slightly as his eyebrows rise.

“Go home, Danno,” Steve sighs, as he walks toward the door.

“No.”

That stops him in his tracks, and he spins around to face his denier. “Pardon?”

Danny shakes his head again. “I’m not going home.”

“And why not?” Steve feels his shoulders sag, which he doesn’t quite understand, only he’s tired, but it doesn’t feel like tired. It feels like... something he can’t quite put his finger on.

Danny walks toward him. It looks like he’s about to put a hand out and touch him, but he holds back. Instead, he maintains eye contact for a good bit before he speaks. “Because you need to not be alone tonight.”

Those prickles intensify. He feels exposed, which doesn’t make sense—there’s nothing here to be exposed by. Unable to keep the irritation from his tone, he snaps back. “Yeah, I do, Danny. Just go home.” And he turns back around and continues toward the door.

Before he gets there, an arm reaches around him and pulls him back to face the other way.

“Danny, what the fuck?”

Danny swallows, takes a deep breath. Steve recognizes his partner’s “counting to ten” technique. He’s seen it often enough. “Steven, you need to not be alone tonight. Now, you can come back to mine, or I will come to yours, but you are not going home alone tonight.”

Steve wants to resist, wants to rip away from Danny’s grasp, but in a show of strength between the two of them, he’s never been certain he would win. He knows he’s stronger than Danny, weighs more, has more brute strength—it’s not about that. He’s just never felt like he would be able to do what it would take to beat him. Too late he realizes Danny’s sensed that, and he finds himself being shepherded out the door and into the Camaro passenger seat.

“Now, you can decide. Yours or mine?” Are the only words Danny says, once they’re going.

Steve shrugs, which Danny evidently takes to mean his place, as he makes the turn to head to Steve’s.

When he pulls up, Danny gets out, stands by the door waiting for Steve. By the time Steve manages to pull himself out of the car and force himself to the house, Danny’s done something on his phone which Steve feels he should probably be suspicious about. As he unlocks the door, Danny pushes past him and heads to the kitchen where he grabs a beer and drinks half of it in one gulp.

“Go swim first,” he says when Steve moves to take the bottle from him.

Something deep in Steve’s chest unclenches at that, which is weird, because he hadn’t realized anything had been... tight. Giving Danny a bit of a glare, just because he doesn’t want him to think he’s completely okay with being bossed around, he heads upstairs to put on his suit.

When he comes back down, Danny’s nowhere to be seen, but when he goes to take his towel from its usual spot, he notices it’s not there, and neither is the back up. Trying to suppress the slight upturn of his lips—smiling would piss him off, though he’s not really sure why—he heads down to the water. Sure enough, Danny’s sitting there, and two beers are sitting on the table between the chairs. Without a word to his partner, Steve hits the waves and splashes out with a surge of rage he hadn’t known he was suppressing. It kind of freaks him out, but he keeps swimming, shutting his mind off, and after too short a while he realizes he’s spent, although it feels more emotional than physical. He turns around and heads back to Danny—back to land, that is. His mind seems to want not to be shut off, but he forces it. If there’s one thing he’s well experienced in, thoroughly trained to do, it’s shut his mind off and focus on the task at hand.

Danny holds the towel out for him, and Steve can’t help it, he gets him wet as he dries himself enough to sit. Not really out of spite, just mild irritation. Or something like it.

Not trying to keep the resentment out of his voice: “Can I have my beer now please Daniel.”

Danny opens the beer and hands it out to him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, feeling somehow scolded by the way Danny opened the beer. Really? Huh. Only Danny could manage to make him feel scolded by the way he opens a bottle.

As Steve’s trying to decide how he feels about that, Danny finishes his beer, gets up and heads to the house. “When you’re done, go shower.”

Again, his lips, against his will, try to turn into a smile. It doesn’t make him as irritated this time though. But he doesn’t reply. Danny doesn’t seem to expect it, he’s clearly got something else on his mind.

Steve lingers a bit over his beer. Mostly because he doesn’t want to be seen to obey too quickly. But he finds himself growing jittery. Telling himself it’s because he’s worried Danny might be trying to cook something in his kitchen, he finishes the beer and grabbing both towels, heads up to the house. He rinses off, throws the towels over the railing, then heads in.

Danny is, it turns out, doing something in the kitchen, though it’s not cooking. Not wanting to be yelled at, he heads for the stairs and hit the shower for a _much faster than even a Navy shower_ rinse-off. Throwing on some sweats he heads back down. Danny’s still in the kitchen, but he smells something delicious, and it hits him right in the gut, and how did he not realize he was starving?

“Go sit on the sofa,” Danny mutters as Steve tries to walk into the kitchen.

This time he does smile, though he’s careful to hide it from Danny.

When Danny brings the food out—and Steve recognizes the smell of Kamekona’s garlic shrimp—Steve’s got a baseball game on the TV. It’s not Danny’s Mets, but he figures it’s still a nice gesture. He can tell, as Danny hands him his food, that he’s noticed, and it’s Danny’s turn to be unsure what to make of the gesture. Steve never lets them watch baseball except during the post-season. He can’t see the point, he says. (He _can_ see the point, it’s just fun to torture Danny, and it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone at this point that Steve _likes_ it when Danny goes into full-on-rant mode.)

Neither of them say anything, either about the food, or the baseball game. They eat, finish a few more beers, watch the game, and when the game ends, Danny switches off the TV. By this point it’s only mildly late, but they’ve both been yawning for a while now. Reaching up to turn off the lamp on the side table near him, Danny then settles against Steve, pulling his feet up on the sofa while pushing Steve sideways against the arm of the sofa. Still he says nothing. The room isn’t quite dark—the lamp on the other table is still on, but it’s a softer bulb, and Steve could easily sleep with it on. And it’s not like they haven’t fallen asleep on the sofa together before. But it’s usually slightly less... intentional... than the move Danny’s just made. Then he realizes that Danny’s not exactly sleeping, and he thinks maybe that’s not even the point. He feels like Danny’s waiting for something. Steve’s got a few years experience with that—with Danny “waiting” for him to do, or more likely _say_ , something.

And it takes him a while, and he doesn’t even plan on it, it just happens. And he swears he didn’t see it coming, doesn’t know where it came _from_. But he starts to cry.

Which isn’t the weirdest thing. What’s so much weirder is that he knows that Danny was expecting it. And that makes him cry more.

Danny just sits against him, doesn’t move away, though he does reach behind him to grab a tissue box, which he offers to Steve. Eventually the tears stop, and Steve feels he should be embarrassed, only he’s not. Like, at all. “What the fuck?” He finally manages to whisper.

“It was a rough week.” Danny still hasn’t moved, and that more than anything is helping Steve to feel okay about this.

“You’re not crying,” he protests.

“It was harder on you.”

Which he gets, in theory—certainly there have been times that’s absolutely been true. This week sure didn’t seem like one of them though. So, he wonders aloud: “But why?”

Danny lets out a breath, and he shifts a little—but more _in_ to Steve, not away, as though he knows his words won’t be as comforting as he wants them to be. “It just is sometimes. Sometimes it’s harder on me, sometimes it’s harder on Kono, or Chin, or Lou, or Jerry... it’s just how it is.”

Steve admits Danny has a point, and yeah, it’s not really a helpful thought, except it kind of is—that idea they share the rougher times. If it was always one of them, or even one kind of case always got most to just one of them, it would be so much harder. There is something deeply soothing about the thought. But it doesn’t explain how Danny knew, when he hadn’t even realized it himself. After a while, he braves asking. “How’d you...”

But Danny’s seen, or probably _felt_ , the question forming. “I know you.”

And that... that right there is why he’d cried even more when he’d seen that Danny’d known he needed to not be alone tonight. And he’s never been more grateful to his partner, which sounds strange, but in a way it’s actually true. “Yeah, I guess you do.” And more than anything ever between them, this makes him see he can’t ever let Danny go, which almost brings more tears to him, but instead he decides action is his better option, so he leans up against the arm of the sofa, pulls Danny into his arms, settles his chin on the top of that blond head and feels the weight drain out of him, feels the comfort, the support... the love... flood into him from Danny. And he realizes that’s what Danny was offering all along, realizes too that he knew it, and he thinks he’s beginning to see that it angered him precisely because he knew it, and he felt weak because of it. But somewhere, some thought floating inside him, points out the real weakness was in not taking what was offered sooner. Fighting it wasn’t strength, but weakness, and as he sits with that thought he decides that’s something he really should work on. He thinks it might even be fun if he lets it. Hugging Danny closer, he feels Danny’s chest rumble with some mumbled phrase that sounds a lot like “I know, babe.” Which doesn’t really make sense, but it’s somehow the perfect thing for him to have said.

Steve closes his eyes, notices he’s smiling, and drifts slowly off to sleep.


	32. Confined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s hurt. To keep him from making it worse, Danny traps him on the top floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough, lazy, unedited, just tossing some silliness and feelings around....

“Danny, this is ridiculous, just let me sleep on the sofa.”

“I already told you why that is not happening.”

“You did, although I’m not sure it made any sense.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it makes sense. Just shut up. We’re more likely to fall back down the stairs if you keep fighting me.”

“I’m not fighting you. I just wish you would trust me.”

“Do you know how likely that is?”

“That hurts, buddy that actually really hurts.”

The thing is, Danny didn’t trust Steve. Not at all. Not with this. Not now. Not ever, really, but especially not now. Because the thing is, the big goof seemed to intentionally get himself hurt these days. Not his usual running after flaming explosive things, either. But really honestly stupidly doing completely unnecessarily risky and blatantly dumb things. Danny had half a mind to install some kind of shocking device on Steve, so that when he was about to do something spectacularly stupid, Danny could shock him. Only, that would probably just encourage him.

Steve hadn’t hurt himself too badly this time. But Danny’d taken it as a warning, and he’d frankly had it up to here with the man’s antics, and decided enough was enough and he was boss now and this was going to stop.

He hadn’t the least idea how he was going to achieve that, but he did have a plan to get Steve healed before he hurt himself again. He was going to trap him on the upper floor of his house. Danny figured, if he was stuck up there, he’d be much more likely to rest and recover before he took off on the next round of Let’s See How Many Ways Steve Can Get Hurt. It was a decent plan, if Danny said so himself. He would sleep in the guest room, he would bring Steve food, he would make sure Steve took his meds, slept enough, ate well, and dangit, actually _rested_. They had three days, and Danny was going to make the most of it.

“There. Sit. Stay. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, Danny. I think I can do that.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Can I get you anything? Got any guns that need polishing?”

“Ha, ha. A drink would be nice.”

“Water?”

“I was thinking more like whiskey.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Of course I’m in pain.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so, you idiot. I’ll go get you your meds.”

“I don’t want to take those.”

“Um. Pardon?”

“They make me... dopey.”

“That’s not the meds, babe, that’s just you.”

“Again with the humor, Daniel. I’m serious, they make me all loopy. I don’t like them.”

“How’s the pain?”

“...Really kind of bad.”

“I’ll get your meds.”

Danny watched to make sure he actually took them, then went to get settled in the guest room. He hoped Steve would sleep, that would sure make things easier. Yes, Danny had worked himself into a tizzy over forcing Steve to do this, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting. Steve would have argued this couldn’t possibly be true, but constantly nagging Steve wore on Danny. Especially lately. (There were a number of “especially lately”s in Danny’s life at the moment. He didn’t try to think about what that might mean.)

So, Danny unpacked, turned down the bed, opened the window that looked out over the ocean (admitting it was a nice view), and went downstairs to see about food—peeking in on a (thankfully) sleeping Steve on the way. Turned out there was plenty of food in the fridge for three days, for which Danny was grateful. He wasn’t about to leave Steve alone even for an hour to go shopping, and he knew if they tried to live on take out for three days Steve would get grumpy.

Making himself a sandwich and grabbing a beer, he headed back upstairs to sit out on the lanai. When, he had to wonder, had he become so fond of having an ocean view? _When it started reminding you of him_ , a voice in his head offered. Danny shut that voice up with a big swig of beer and allowed his mind to still, listening only to the waves. He thought he heard just the faintest _You know it’s true_.... before he drifted off for a bit of a nap of his own. After all, he’d need his strength if he was going to deal with Steve for three days.

“Danny!”

“Ungh.”

“Danny, you still here?”

“Oh my god, quit your shouting. What do you need?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. What would you like?”

“Um... salad?”

“Seriously?”

“What, why not? What’s wrong with salad?”

“I will not burn the house down. What do you want to eat?”

“A sandwich would be good.”

“How about some soup?”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds nice. Just... be careful.”

“Steven, I swear to god.”

“Thank you, Danny.”

Danny managed not to growl his frustration, but only just. He headed downstairs to heat up some soup, choosing the microwave out of spite to Steve’s frankly childish insistence that Danny was a menace in the kitchen. He added some cheese and crackers, a glass of water, and another round of Steve’s pain pills, put it all on a tray, and took it up to the invalid.

“Well, isn’t this nice?”

“You’re welcome.”

“If this is the service I get, I might ask for it more.”

“So help me, if you get injured on purpose so I’ll bring you food in bed, I will hurt you.”

“That’s kind of ironic, considering you don’t want me hurt in the first place.”

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Back to what I was doing before you summoned me.”

“Could you... just sit with me?”

“What, need me to tell you a story?”

“Never mind.”

Danny sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Steve smiled sheepishly, and started to eat his soup. He had taken the pills, Danny noticed, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good sign (that he was at least taking care of himself) or a bad one (that he was in enough pain to have taken more of the dreaded pills without a fight). He decided he wouldn’t worry just yet, but he would watch Steve for warning signs. Once his soup was gone, Steve thanked Danny again, and said he might nap some more, but could Danny stay close by in case he needed something else. Not entirely sure if Steve was pulling his leg, he agreed, but with a good dose of snarky attitude, just to be safe.

He’d brought a book to read and he pulled one of the wicker chairs on the lanai over to the railing, so he could sit with his feet up on it while he read. It wasn’t something he did typically, except on vacation (read a book, that is), and maybe there was some kind of internal switch that he accidentally triggered by the action, but he found himself falling into relaxed holiday mode. So the craving for a margarita or frozen daiquiri could be explained by that. He toed his shoes off, unbuttoned his shirt, and tried to remember the last time he’d actually _been_ on a vacation. A real one, not a “staycation” (those were fine, don’t get him wrong, and it’s not like they had many options being stuck out here in the middle of the ocean, but they didn’t really count). Brushing aside the somewhat depressing thought, he allowed that this actually was reasonably refreshing, and he could see how you might forget to have a vacation if there was enough of this kind of relaxation in your daily life.

That thought had begun to take up rather a lot of his headspace when he heard Steve calling for him again. He probably should have thought the better of his bare feet and unbuttoned shirt, but he didn’t. Steve, of course, noticed. And of course he played it up.

“Now, that is a good look on you, buddy.”

“Did you actually need something?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“What do you need, Steve.”

“Another drink?”

“Fine. Be right back.”

“And maybe some company?”

Danny chuckled to himself as he went downstairs to get some water for his patient. He’d taken care of Steve when he’d been hurt before, obviously. But he was behaving very differently this time. Steve had said he thought the pills made him dopey, maybe that was partly it. Although Danny was pretty sure something else was going on—had been going on. He’d slipped into relaxed vacation mode perhaps a little too far to engage his analytic skills too deeply, so by the time he made it back up to Steve’s room with the water (and a bottle so the big dope could get his own refills), he’d let it slip further from his mind.

As Danny moved to leave, Steve reached a hand out to stop him.

“Stay awhile?”

“Sure, babe.”

Danny settled on the bed next to Steve, swinging his feet up next to Steve’s, who let his brush against Danny’s, and let himself fall softly against Danny’s side, where he promptly fell back asleep. Rolling his eyes, but admitting it felt kind of nice, Danny put his arm gently around Steve and soon he drifted off as well.

It couldn’t have been too much later (the light in the room was still the same) when he was awakened by Steve rubbing his arm. Soft, slow circles, accompanied by whispers he could barely make out, but that sounded like endearments. He moved, just slightly, but it was enough to stir Steve out of his focus.

“Hey, buddy!”

“Hey yourself.”

“Ah. Did you hear any of that?”

“Not really. Care to repeat any of it?”

“Uh... not really....”

“Okay.”

Danny’d moved to disentangle himself from Steve, and as he did so, he caught a look in his partner’s eyes that stopped him in his tracks.

“I think this is what I meant by _the pills make me dopey_....”

“Yeah?”

“Afraid so.”

And Steve leaned forward, almost overbalancing, and began to kiss Danny—slowly at first, but as Danny didn’t resist and then began to respond, his enthusiasm increased. Eventually they pulled apart, breathless.

“Like I said... dopey.”

“That wasn’t dopey. It was nice.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Yes, Steven.”

“Okay.”

Danny shook his head and laughed softly. He settled back on the bed, and pulled Steve against him, but they didn’t sleep, they just kind of... well, honestly: basked in the glow of what had just happened.

Eventually, as it was growing dark, Danny suggested dinner, and Steve decided he trusted him enough to make some pasta and veggies, which they ate in Steve’s bed. After they finished, Danny went downstairs to tidy up, and when he returned, Steve had fallen asleep, so he left him, and went to get ready for bed himself. He didn’t fall asleep very easily, though, so he heard when Steve woke and for some stupid reason decided he should get out of bed. Walking into the hall, he saw Steve slowly making it to the doorway.

“And just where do you think you are going?”

“I, uh, was going to find you....”

“Oh, really?”

“Um... yes?”

“Huh.”

“What’d ya mean, huh?”

“Need more meds?”

“Um, no.”

“More water?”

“Again, no.”

“So?”

“...You?”

“Me.”

“ _Yeah_.”

“So, it wasn’t just the pills?”

“Is this going to be a long conversation? Because I think I need to sit down.”

“Fine, back to bed. Here we go, easy.... Alright.”

“Thank you.”

“So.... It wasn’t just the pills?”

“And if it had been?”

Danny shrugged. He’d been fine with that. He wasn’t sure why, but he had been. But it’s one thing to be doped up and sloppily kiss the person next to you. Another thing altogether to actively seek them out. His heart thudded at the thought. He felt like he was on vacation; Steve was half out of it on pain pills. It probably was not the best circumstances in which to start a relationship. But then, their starts never had been exactly the best.

“But it wasn’t.”

“No, Danny, it wasn’t.”

“Go to sleep, Steven.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course I’ll stay, you big dope.”

Steve slid down in the bed, coming to rest with his head nestled against Danny’s chest. Danny let his arm wrap around Steve, protectively. It hadn’t been what he’d imagined when he said he planned on making sure Steve rested this weekend. But then again, he realized, maybe it had been exactly what he’d needed.


	33. A Good Night's Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Season Seven finale: Steve gets tired more easily now. Danny helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already posted a post-season-seven-finale story, [“Home.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11904024) But this little idea just wouldn’t leave me alone.... And it’s been too, too long since a BYS, so I indulged. :-)

One of the things Danny had learned very early on in his working relationship with Steve was what exactly it took to get the man to rest. He hadn’t figured it out right away; in all fairness, it hadn’t occurred to him that this was something that would become his responsibility. That had taken a few times of Steve clearly needing to rest and utterly failing to do so, and eventually Danny had given in, yelled at Steve for an hour, and then taken it upon himself to be in charge of Steve’s rest when needed most.

So really, he shouldn’t have been surprised that very shortly after Steve’s admission of his illness, Danny found himself in something of a new position of being required almost daily to keep a close eye on Steve. Because the nausea and the blackouts and dizzy spells were few and far between, and easily managed with his meds. What was nearly constant, and not helped at all by the meds (in fact Steve swore they made it worse, but Danny punched him when he suggested he stop taking them because of it), was the tiredness.

Steve is not the kind of person who does well with wearing out easily. He’d almost never been sick as a child, and while he’d certainly had his fair share of injuries in the years Danny’d been his partner, Steve had never learned how to “take it easy.” He was, in fact, the opposite of “take it easy.” Which was spectacularly ironic, given his propensity to lecture Danny about needing to ease up and relax and be more easy going. Steve’s version of “easy going” included major home renovations, epic paddle board expeditions, swimming for five hours, and of course throwing himself off stupidly tall structures at the drop of a hat.

But Steve has a couple soft spots. And Danny knew he was one of them. And many years ago, in a fit of desperation, Danny had finally worked out how to get Steve to _really_ rest. Danny, simply, had to rest with him. Because one thing Steve McGarrett is completely incapable of resisting is spending time close to Danny.

So if Danny, in the days following Steve’s revelation, came up with a plan to ensure Steve’s regular rest, well, the fact that it included an overnight bag perennially packed in the Camaro, a toothbrush and his soap hidden in Mary’s bathroom, a drawer in her room stocked with sleep clothes, and a spare set of work clothes hidden in her closet... it should surprise no one. What might surprise some is that he took that next step and snuck things of Steve’s to stash at his own house.

The point is, Danny was prepared. And the first time he saw Steve sway on his feet at the end of a case, he gave the signal to Lou, who stepped in and finished up the paperwork and odds and ends while Danny took Steve home and put him to bed.

Danny pulled a book out of his overnight bag, and sat on the bed next to Steve while he napped. He got a little engrossed in his reading, and he wasn’t sure how long Steve had been awake before he noticed.

“Hey, babe. Feeling better?” He asked, softly, brushing imaginary hair back from Steve’s temple in a not-very-subtle attempt at making sure his feverishness had subsided.

“I’m fine, Danny,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after me.”

Danny smiled sadly. He closed his book, set it down on the bedside table. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

They sat on the sofa, had sandwiches and beers, and watched a game on replay. Steve had perked up considerably, and Danny decided he could safely go home, but when Steve got up to hug Danny goodbye, he visibly slumped.

“Do you think...” he started, when Danny turned to look closely at him, to make sure he wasn’t going to fall over. “Could you maybe stay?” Steve asked, softly, in one rush, as though he were afraid the words would bite him if they took too long coming out.

Pressing his lips together to keep from smiling, Danny nodded. “Of course, babe.”

As they settled into bed, Steve turned to Danny and his eyes went soft, like they did sometimes when he was about to confess something he felt was Not Something McGarrett Men Said.  

“I haven’t been sleeping very well.”

Danny didn’t say anything.

Steve’s eyes widened. “You knew.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Danny answered: “I guessed.”

“I sleep so much better when you’re here.” It wasn’t fast like before, but still as though he were scared of the words themselves, let alone the meaning behind them.

Danny bit his lip, and said nothing.

Steve sucked in a breath. “You knew that, too.” Again, not a question, but surprised.

“Yeah.”

“It’s the worst part,” Steve said, rolling onto his back. “The sleep.” He sighed, raising his arms up over his head and pillowing them beneath his head. “I’ve never had problems sleeping. Never. Doris always said I slept through the night from the very beginning.”

Danny laughed lightly at that. “Mom swears I didn’t sleep at all for the first three years.”

Steve turned to look at Danny. “Well, that explains a lot!”

Rolling his eyes, Danny shook his head. “Very amusing.”

“But I sleep well when you’re here,” Steve repeated. “And, I think?” He licked his lips and met Danny’s eyes. “I think you do too.”

Danny let out a long-suffering, slightly bemused breath. “Just go to sleep, Steve.”

He settled back on his outstretched arms. “Night, Danny.”

“Good night, babe.”

But Steve was right. Danny did sleep better there, especially now. And maybe it was mostly because they’d had a-few-more-than-normal back to back exhausting cases, but they found themselves spending the night together more and more frequently, until they started finding that on “normal” days when they didn’t feel they could justify sleeping together... well, they just didn’t sleep. And that became something of a problem.

Danny’d been about to try to address the issue when Steve pulled him into his office towards the end of a random, case-less, by all accounts “easy” Tuesday.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, awkwardly, pacing as much as he could in the small space. “So, ah. I was thinking....” He was clearly agitated and increasingly frustrated with himself. “Dangit.” He stopped pacing, and stood facing Danny. “The thing is. I suck at sleeping without you. Can you please come over tonight so I can get some damn sleep?” He blushed as soon as he was done. “That sounded bad. Sorry.”

Danny smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Naw, babe. It sounded just fine.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll come over around seven, that okay? I need to do some stuff at home first.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” He let out a breath, and looked much calmer. “Thanks, Danny.”

“Sure thing, babe,” and Danny put a hand on Steve’s arm to reassure him, then they both went back to work.

After that, they developed a system for Steve to signal Danny when he wanted him to come over. Sometimes they went the whole week without, though Fridays they typically ended up together anyway. But sometimes, they wound up together just about every other night.

And maybe it was a sign of how sleep deprived they’d both been, that it was a couple of months before either of them even thought that maybe there was something more to it than just better sleep.

It had been probably three or four “normal/easy” days in a row that Steve had asked Danny over (actually, one of those he hadn’t really asked, Danny’d just come anyway), and maybe that was what did it, because it was the most well-rested either of them had been in far too long, but they woke up that next morning, and everything seemed different. They both noticed, almost immediately. Turning to look at each other, they saw their own “what the hell are we doing” expressions mirrored on their partner’s face.

“So. Um.” Steve began, but couldn’t come up with anything else.

“Yeaaah,” Danny eventually replied.

“This isn’t... this isn’t normal, is it?” Steve asked, tentatively.

“Mmmm. Probably not,” Danny admitted.

“Do you think....” Steve trailed off, watching Danny closely.

“Go on.” Danny prompted.

“Uh, do you think...” he took a deep breath. “Do you think that maybe... um.”

Steve kind of stalled. Danny thought he knew where he was going, though, because he was pretty sure that his mind had started going down the same path at precisely the same time. Thing was, he wasn’t at all certain what to do about it.

Sighing, Steve mumbled “Naw, forget about it,” and started to get up.

Danny’s chest tightened uncomfortably, and he reached a hand out for Steve’s. “Babe, wait.”

For one moment, Steve fought Danny’s grip, but then he slouched back onto the bed.

“You’re right,” Danny managed. But it was just about all he could think to say. “I, uh, I have zero idea what we should do, but you’re right.”

Steve turned around in the bed and looked closely at Danny. “Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, Danny found words come to him from somewhere he couldn’t explain. “I arranged everything, you know. Once you told me. Packed that bag,” he nodded to his overnight bag on the floor. “Stole some things of yours to keep at mine, just in case.”

Steve smirked. “That what happened to my Maui tee shirt?”

Danny nodded.

“That’s sweet, Danno.” He punched him softly on the arm.

“Yeah, well. I did it because I know you. I know you don’t rest well. And I know this is going to suck for you, even though you pretend it won’t.”

“Thanks, man.”

“And, it’s what I would do for you because you’re my partner.”

“Of course, of course, Danny. I get it.”

Danny shook his head. “But I don’t think that’s _why_ I did it.”

Steve’s head tilted in puzzlement.

“I think I did it because I love you.”

Steve grinned. “I love you too, Danno.”

“No, Steve.” His eyes closed in reaction to the stinging because of the tears that were starting to form. He shook his head to clear them, which didn’t really work. Opening his eyes to look at Steve, who had gone all blurry, Danny rasped hoarsely “Because I love you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Mmmm. So, yeah, I do think that maybe....”

Steve’s face lit up like Danny’d just given him a new surf board.

“ _So_...” Danny prompted.

“Let’s go out tonight, Danno. Can we do that? I’d like to do that.”

Danny wiped his eyes, and smiled. “Yeah, babe. We can do that.”

“Good,” Steve said, firmly, as though that settled a whole lot more than just a date, then went down stairs to make coffee.

They got ready for their day like they usually did on those mornings they woke up together. It was a routine that had gradually developed over so many years, it was totally comfortable and there was really nothing new to it, now. Well. Other than a slight spark of something slightly sexual. Though, to be completely honest, _that_ had probably been there all along as well.

When they were ready to head out for work, they paused, just inside the door. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and it had been hanging between them as an ever-growing cloud. Standing so close it was almost impossible not to kiss, still they held back. Like somehow they needed time to savor it, before they took that next step. Almost as though some time knowing it, but not doing anything yet, somehow it was this magical zone. Like it was building something up, and also breaking something down. A shifting of epic and yet utterly mundane proportions. Absolutely everything, and yet nothing at all.

Stepping apart from the not-a-kiss-yet, they smiled at each other, and headed out to work, and to the gradual exploration of what else might happen when they regularly got a good night’s sleep.


	34. Sick at Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team’s been passing the flu around, and Steve’s finally come down with it. Just in time for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, been too too long since an update here! Just a little sugary sweet Christmas fluff for your holiday season.
> 
>  ******* Also, I'm still very far behind with watching, so I haven't seen those last episodes, and I think they're holiday related, so please, no references to them in comments, please.... Thank you. :-)

He blamed Danny, he really did. Although, he supposed that was unfair, because it was Charlie who started it. But it wasn’t Charlie who’d gotten Steve sick. No, that honor was Danny’s alone. Danny who was now healthy and glowing, while Steve was sick as a dog—no offense, Eddie.

Ordinarily Steve wouldn’t complain about being sick. He’d fight it off easily, and admit it was good to get some extra rest in, as he didn’t ordinarily allow himself the indulgence. But his immune system wasn’t what it used to be... and it was Christmas. And Steve was beginning to suspect he was more of a wimp than he liked to admit.

Something told him Danny knew.

He hadn’t dared hope—oh, alright, that’s bull, he had in fact hoped very much—that Danny would drop the kids back at Rachel’s after their annual Santa-present-exchange, and then come over to his place and keep his miserable self company. Being alone on Christmas Eve was bad enough. Being sick and alone on Christmas Eve was intolerable.

So, when he got a message from Danny saying _I’m coming in, don’t get up, please don’t shoot me_ , Steve grinned and felt better than he had for several days.

“Hey babe,” Danny called from downstairs. Steve heard sounds in the kitchen, and then, as he was about to text Danny what the hell was taking him so long, Danny appeared in his doorway, tray of things in his arms, Santa hat from his time with the kids still on his head, and a smile far too (...something he couldn’t quite place) lighting up his face.

Steve felt his heart thud in that heavy, uncomfortable way it does with the flu, and he grinned—he hoped it looked more like a grin than a grimace—as he sat up.

“What’s all this, buddy?” He asked as Danny set the tray in his lap.

“Homemade chicken noodle soup, babe, courtesy of my kids. The jello was Charlie’s doing. It’s lime, and yes, there’s a cherry on top so it’s more festive.”

“Aww, it looks like a Christmas tree,” Steve observed, his heart thudding even harder.

“He will love that you noticed that. He worked very hard at it.”

Something occurred to Steve that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. “Danny. Did you spend Christmas Eve with your kids making food for me?”

“Babe, it was all them.”

Steve suddenly couldn’t swallow.

“ _Danny_.”

“Yeah, babe.” _Soft_ , he thought. That was the smile. It was _soft_.

Steve didn’t even have words. He smiled, found his vision was blurry. Blinked several times.

Danny sighed and sat, carefully so as not to spill the soup, back against the pillow next to Steve.

“Eat up,” Danny whispered, far too close to Steve’s ear.

He didn’t know what else to do, so he did. The soup was really good, and it did give him that cozy warm feeling that was soothing, and he was really grateful. He had a bite of the jello, tentatively at first, because, well, jello. But it felt nice too, and Charlie’d clearly gone to a lot of trouble, so he finished it.

“You not gonna eat the cherry, babe?” Danny asked.

Steve nearly laughed. “No, you go ahead, Danno.”

Danny grinned, popped the cherry in his mouth, stem included, proceeded to make some weird expressions, and then stuck his tongue out at Steve, the stem on its tip, tied, neatly, in a knot.

Steve’s heart felt too full in his chest. His throat felt thick. And his voice, when he managed to find it, sounded raw. “You know what they say about people who can do that, Danny?”

He drew his tongue back in, and grinned. “Wanna find out?”

Steve was tempted to check and see if he had a fever. Surely this wasn’t real?

“Danny. I’m sick.”

“Yeah, I know, but I gave it to you, so....”

“...You can’t catch it back.....”

Danny's grin softened with concern. “Unless you feel too crappy.”

Steve sighed. He did. But more to the point, he didn’t want to— _finally_ —cross that particular bridge while sick. It meant too much to him.

Seeming to have guessed his answer, Danny snuggled closer to his side, wrapping a warm, muscular arm across his chest. “Let’s get you better first, huh?”

Nodding, and feeling warmth that had nothing to do with soup spread through his belly, Steve set the tray aside, and wrapped his own arm across Danny’s.

“Thanks, buddy, for being with me tonight.”

“There’s nowhere else I could be, babe. You know that.”

Steve was pretty sure he did, but still, it was nice to be told.

Eventually Danny stirred, mumbled something about clearing the dishes, disappeared downstairs for a bit, and Steve drifted off. He woke briefly when Danny, changed and smelling of mint, nestled back against his side, pulling an extra blanket over them both. Steve wasn’t sure what the sugarplums they were supposed to dream about tonight even were, but he was reasonably confident his dreams would be sweet.

He did sleep soundly, and when he woke to morning light, it was accompanied by the burnt smell of coffee, with some harsher herbal scent lingering.

Danny, warmly ensconced next to him, smiled that soft smile again. “Feeling better enough for coffee? Or there’s tea Grace made me bring.”

Steve grimaced as he took a closer sniff of the tea. “Coffee, I think,” he mumbled, as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

When he came back from taking care of his morning needs (which included a _very_ thorough brushing of nasty sick-teeth and a quick rub down of his sweatier parts) the stink from the tea was gone, replaced by a much stronger coffee smell, and an even bigger smile on Danny’s lips.

Danny’s very tempting lips.

He was pretty sure his dream-self had decided that whatever sugarplums were, they involved lots of cherries needing to be deprived of their stems by a very talented mouth.

A mouth that had offered to demonstrate its prowess, just the night before.

...Unless he had dreamed all of it.

Steve went to his drawer to pull on a fresh tee, and when he turned back around he thought he caught a glimmer of disappointment flicker past Danny’s eyes. It made him bold.

“Does your offer of last night still stand?” He asked, softly.

Danny’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “Feeling better, then?” He asked, voice rough, eyes bright.

Steve thought honestly about it for a moment. He actually did, a lot better. “I think so.” He lowered himself back to the bed, slipping between the still-warm sheets with a sigh of contentment.

“Must have been the soup,” Danny whispered, as Steve moved closer.

“Or the company,” Steve suggested, as he lowered his lips to Danny’s and prepared to celebrate Christmas morning in the best of all possible ways.


	35. Things of Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is utterly ridiculous, complete fluff—and not terribly well-written fluff either. I just needed Danny sleeping with one of Steve’s shirts. That’s all. The rest is just whatever the heck my half-asleep-mind came up with when I wasn’t bothering to pay attention. Thing is, I’m not sorry at all. Foofy foofy silly fluff.... Ahh. Hope your week is going well. <3

Steve left his sweatshirt in the car. It was an old favorite, Danny knew. A faded, well-worn Navy sweatshirt. Danny found it in the back of the Camaro when he went to grab his uneaten lunch one day. One exhausting and terrible day. And at first he blamed that—the exhaustion, the heartbreak—for his moment of intolerable weakness. Because he took the sweatshirt inside, and he couldn’t really explain that. He tossed it on his bed as he headed for the shower, and when he came back out and fell, half asleep already, onto his bed, it was still there... soft, warm, and smelling like Steve... and Danny, who was too tired to get up to get pajamas, almost slid into the comfort of that old shirt, barely pulling it on before drifting off to sleep.

And he slept well, was the thing. He slept really well. And maybe that was partly the sheer physical drain of the day, but usually the heartbreaking days led to nights of poor sleep, so he wasn’t entirely sure about that. What he _was_ sure about was the softness and faded comfort of the shirt, and he didn’t think about it when he tucked it under his pillow when he got up... it just kind of happened.

Steve, meanwhile, clearly had _not_ slept well. He was tired, and grumpy, and short-tempered, and Danny spent the day running interference between the Big Grump and the rest of the team. It was something he did sometimes, when Steve got to be a bit much. Steve’s truly foul moods, though infrequent, were extremely difficult to sway. Unlike Danny’s, which were common, but easily dealt with—sugar, caffeine, a few stern words from Steve were usually enough to get him back on track. When Steve descended into awful-mood status, it sometimes took everything Danny had just to keep him from violent destructive implosion. These moods were fragile, and required a soft tread. But sometimes, if Danny got to him early enough, kept the others away quickly enough, and stayed—that seemed to be the biggest thing, he needed to stay with Steve—then he could sometimes soothe them away into a simple bad mood, which would eventually ease into something not-completely-awful. The thing was, it did require pretty much all of Danny’s focus to do that, and the challenge with that was that it often happened after they’d both not slept well. The point being, Danny’s well-rested status was a major bonus that day, and he would blame _that_ for what he did next.

Because when he wound up crashing at Steve’s that night—ostensibly to keep him from drifting further off-course into serious grump territory—he helped himself to one of Steve’s tee shirts to sleep in. And the next morning when he got up early to go home to change, he kept it on, tossing it on his pillow when he undressed to shower.

By the time he made it into the office, Steve was already there, and it was immediately clear to Danny that his mood wasn’t much improved. His usual sleep on Steve’s sofa was half way decent at least, and it had been better than usual, probably because he sometimes just kept his work clothes on, which was never the most comfortable of things for sleep. So, having worn Steve’s tee instead had really helped. And he was grateful for that, because it took everything he had that day to not just punch Steve and his bad mood in the face, out of sheer frustration.

Danny made sure they wound up at his place that night, partly out of selfish desire to not sleep on the sofa—his own sofa, he was certain, was infinitely more comfortable, and besides, Steve was more well-suited to sofa sleeping... don’t ask him what that meant, it just was true—and partly because he was getting more than a little tired of Steve’s pissy mood and was determined to at least get to be in his own house while dealing with it. Besides, maybe the change of scenery would do the jerk some good.

They ordered take out and ate it in silence standing in the kitchen, too hungry—or maybe just too damn stubborn, to deal with plates and silverware and sitting down like civilized human beings. If Steve was going to behave like a Neanderthal.... At any rate, Danny made the grump shower first, and when he came out from his own shower, Steve was sitting on Danny’s bed, and he was holding his Navy sweatshirt, and wearing his own tee shirt—the one Danny’d kept from the night before. As Danny toweled off and walked toward the bed, in just his boxers, Steve handed the sweatshirt to Danny. Thinking briefly that he’d no doubt regret so much of this, he pulled it on, letting his towel drop to the floor as he did. Steve then leaned back on the bed, and turning on his side, faced the empty space he’d left for Danny. Hesitating only for a brief moment during which he started and immediately stopped himself from thinking he might resist, Danny slid beneath the sheets and sunk into the soft mattress, a small sigh of content escaping his lips as he did so. Almost immediately, Steve moved closer, slipping an arm around Danny, and moving in close behind him, pressing his warmth against Danny’s back, sounding at least a little less completely awful than he had the past two days as he whispered “Night, Danny.” Stunned enough to not have anything to say in reply, Danny simply fell swiftly asleep.

He woke early, found himself still tightly in the grasp of Steve’s stupidly strong arms, and despite being far too warm, decided he rather liked the situation, and fell back asleep with a smile on his face.

The next time he woke, Steve’s hold on him had released, and Danny turned to look. Steve was watching him, sheepishly, but with a slight tinge of smirk.

“I know how you got my shirt...” he pointed to his own chest. “But where’d you get that one?” He nodded to Danny’s chest.

“You left it in the car.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded as though that explained why it had been under Danny’s pillow. “And you slept with it?”

“It was warm. And soft.”

Steve grinned. “Just like you.”

“Shut up. So are you done with your piss-poor mood already, you asshole?”

“Well, _that_ helps.” But he smiled. And he looked, blessedly, like himself. Which helped Danny to feel he could safely now take some of his pent-up frustrations out on him. Because, well, it was only fair.

“I don’t care at this point. You need to fucking get over it and stop making me work so damn hard to keep you happy.”

“Is it so hard? Making me happy? You must be doing it wrong. Because this was nice.” He gestured to the bed between them. “I hope it wasn’t too hard on you.”

“No, _this_ I can manage. This was lovely. It’s the keeping you from blowing up the island every day that’s doing me in.”

Steve seemed to consider that. “Well, we’ll have to see of course, but I have a feeling this might be enough to do that.”

Danny was too sleepy and hadn’t had coffee yet, so he wasn’t entirely sure what Steve was implying. Okay, that’s a lie, he fucking knew. But he’d waited so long for that, he didn’t want to believe it was going to be _this_ easy. “You wanna say that again? Possibly while you make me coffee and breakfast?”

Steve pressed his lips together, swallowing a smirk. “Sure, buddy. I’d love to do that.”

And he did. And it turned out it _was_ almost enough.

The kissing in the supply closet helped, too.


	36. Harder Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, everything’s just a little bit harder alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more sleepy comfort fluff... and I'll just confess that these two TBM/BYS chapters this week were supposed to be so I'd have time to work on a bigger story for next week, but that's just not happened, so I might not post anything next week, but hopefully that will mean I'll post something even longer the week after....... Hope everyone's doing okay.... Happy almost weekend! <3

Everything’s just been a little bit harder than usual lately. It started with that dang cold that took forever to go away, the coughing fits that woke him leaving a bruised feeling deep within his chest that he still hasn’t totally shaken.

Steve’s good at balancing things out, though. He knows how to adjust for various differences—eat more protein when you sleep less, skip shaving an extra day to grab back those few minutes to relax more in the shower, swim harder but shorter to have a little extra time in the office before anyone who might catch you yawning before you get enough coffee down can see you and worry.

Thing is. Danny’s worrying anyway. Steve can tell. Which isn’t to imply that he’s got some super sense when it comes to Danny’s emotions and thoughts and feelings. They’re kind of plastered all over his face for anyone to see. If Danny’s worried about you, he looks like shit, first of all, because he makes himself sick over it. Which is so infuriating to Steve, because literally the only thing that accomplishes is to make him even more stressed out and feeling worse... which, guess? Makes Danny worry more.

It’s stupid.

But, then, that’s Danny. Stupid and frustrating and impossible to manage and standing in the doorway looking worried.

“I’m fine, Danny, please stop.”

“You are not fine. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, buddy, love you too.”

Danny steps inside Steve’s office and lets the door close. “I’m serious. When was the last time you even shaved?”

“What, I thought you liked the stubble?”

“That’s not stubble, that is getting close to beard.”

“Well, maybe I’m working on my Salty Sea Dog vibe.”

“No, you’re not. You skip shaving when you’re not feeling well to save time.”

And, well, fuck. That’s the other problem with Danny. You just can’t pull one over on him. Well. Steve can’t. Thing is, he really doesn’t have time for this conversation right now. Which of course means that Danny’s going to insist on it, or find a way to make things even harder on Steve. So he sighs, puts his phone down, and turns his full attention to Danny. He doesn’t miss the small smile that Danny tries to hide when he sees he’s being listened to.

“Alright. I’m still not feeling 100%, but that was a rough cold, it’s just lingering a bit, nothing to worry about.”

“Is that you talking or is that the doctor?” The way he says it, he knows. Steve hasn’t been. Why does he even ask?

“You know the answer to that, why do you bother?”

“Trying to make a point.”

“It’s me saying it, Danny. I know my body better than any doctor.”

“Oh, and you have a medical degree I’ve somehow not heard about?”

They’ve been down this road before. It’s not somewhere Steve really wants to go again. “What do you want.”

“I want you to take care of yourself.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re really not.”

And something about the way Danny says that—as though it hurts him, physically... it’s too much for Steve. He doesn’t know how to make it stop, but he needs it to stop. He sighs, because well, he’s tired and he’s frustrated, and this is not helping. “Do we have to do this every time I stub my toe?”

“This is not a stubbed toe, and stop distracting me. Have you had lunch?”

Steve almost smiles, because of course this is going to become about food. Everything with Danny becomes about food if it goes on long enough. He manages to keep a hold on his grumpy manner, though, and that’s only partly because he still is grumpy. “What does that have to do with my toe?”

“Oh my god. Alright. I’m guessing you’ll say you don’t have time to go out, so what can I bring you?”

“Something easy and quick.”

“No. Something filling and healthy.”

“Fine, whatever.”

So Danny brings him some spicy chicken thing with rice and veg, and it’s actually really good, and the spices make him feel better. What makes him feel less better is the fact that Danny sits in his office and watches him while he eats it.

“Happy?” He asks, showing Danny the empty container.

“No,” Danny mutters as he walks out, taking Steve’s trash with him.

Probably it shouldn’t surprise him, the next morning, when he comes in from his swim, to find Danny in his kitchen making an omelet. Or that when he comes back from a meeting the next afternoon that there’s a cooler chest on his desk with a note saying “Eat me” and a sandwich inside that could maybe try to have more meat on it if it concentrated really hard and said “There’s no place like Jersey” five times fast. And probably he should see it coming from miles away when that Thursday night, after a day when none of them had a chance to use the bathroom let alone eat, Danny follows him home, points to the ocean, and disappears into the kitchen. By the time Steve’s back from swimming, the table is set with a lidded plate of Danny’s grandma’s meatballs, a side of pasta, and a salad. There’s no note this time, so he half thinks about skipping eating it, since Danny hasn’t stuck around to make sure he does, and he’s not really hungry. He decides to at least have some, and he’s very glad he does, because as he eats he notices that beneath the glass plate is a note in Danny’s writing, just visible as he moves the food aside, saying “Call me when you finish this.”

Danny answers by saying “Now please shave, would you?” And hanging up before Steve can say anything.

More because he’s stunned than anything, he does.

The next morning, when he walks into work, Danny’s sitting in Steve’s office with a huge grin on his face.

“Happy now?”

“Not yet.” Which is hard to believe when he’s smiling so exuberantly.

Nodding to Steve’s desk, where there’s a wrapped something that’s probably a breakfast sandwich, Danny stands to leave.

“How do you know I didn’t already eat?” Steve says, almost more to himself, not actually thinking Danny’s going to respond.

“Oh, I know.” Is the answer that floats back to Steve just as the door closes.

Seriously. What the fuck? Steve finds himself thinking he should look for surveillance in his kitchen. He absolutely would not put it past Danny to be so devious. But he really didn’t eat, and the sandwich is at least filling, and he is grateful for it when they don’t have time for lunch.

So, alright, Steve’s eating better. And he’s not really going to deny that it seems to be helping. But the thing is, his sleep is actually getting _worse_. At first he pretends to not understand why. But that’s bull. He knows exactly why, and it’s to do with this really annoying but undeniably cute guy who keeps harassing him about eating. Because the thing is, Steve’s spending an awful lot of time lying awake at night thinking about Danny. And that’s just not something that can possibly be good for his health.

Certainly it’s not good for his heart.

He thinks it’ll take a while for Danny to realize there’s something else up, like he’s got the food thing sorted, why isn’t Steve instantly improving? He should have known better, of course. And probably he’s an idiot for even thinking Danny hadn’t already been aware, because Danny seems to have developed some weird kind of instant knowing about him, and that’s just vaguely disturbing in an oddly sweet way... which also isn’t really helping his heart.

So, the thing is, and he has no one but himself to blame, but there’s this one day when everyone else is out doing kind of mindless stuff, and well, he thinks it’s safe, so he naps on his sofa. And of course, when he wakes up, Danny’s sitting at his desk, in his chair, watching Steve sleep as though that isn’t some kind of slightly creepy thing that’s probably crossing over a line or two in a relationship that has very few lines left to cross.

“How long you been sitting there?”

“Long enough.”

He squints at Danny. “Long enough for what, exactly?”

“Just... long enough.”

“Okay, but you realize that doesn’t make any sense....”

“Shut up. Why are you not sleeping, huh?”

“I kind of thought I just was....”

“Oh, do not get smart with me right now, Steven.”

He opens his mouth to say something obvious, but stops himself because something about the way Danny’s looking at him sets some sort of alarm off in his head.

A lot of the time he finds Danny something of a pushover. In so far as Steve can usually push far enough that Danny just kind of vaguely gives in to whatever Steve’s willing to push towards. But sometimes, for reasons Steve’s never quite been able to work out, Danny becomes so solidly unpushable that it’s not even worth trying. He may not understand the mechanism behind those times, but he does recognize the face. And he’s getting it now. So he just sits there, swallowing awkwardly, feeling very groggy and not at all well rested despite the fact he’s had a reasonable nap, and waiting for Danny to make some kind of pronouncement.

What he gets is a heavy sigh and an exasperated rubbing of the face. And then Danny gets up and leaves, and Steve is vaguely uncomfortable for the rest of the day, expecting something else to drop. The next morning when he gets to his office, he finds a pillow and a blanket sitting on his chair, and he bites his lips together over the smile that tries to form, and puts them in his bottom desk drawer thinking he might use them later, if everyone goes out to lunch.

He doesn’t get the chance, though, because they get called out to a case, and lunch finds them chasing some idiot half way around the island.

The next day, however, he does use the pillow, when he’s sitting at his desk and finding it next to impossible to hold his head up, so he thinks he’ll just rest it for a bit, while the others are out, except of course Danny comes back early, and when Steve jolts suddenly awake, probably some old instinct alerting him to a dangerous presence, it’s to find Danny sitting on the sofa, eating his lunch, and watching Steve with a new look he’s not sure he can totally parse.

Danny doesn’t say anything, just gets up, goes to Steve’s fridge, gets out a salad that matches the one he’s eating, along with a bottle of water, puts them both on Steve’s desk, and sits back down. He doesn’t say anything, and Steve’s grateful, and figures he’d better take what he can get, so he eats his salad. The look softens but doesn’t totally fade, and when Danny gets up to leave after finishing his salad, he twirls the blinds closed, nods to the sofa, and leaves, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

Steve briefly considers ignoring what was a subtle but clear command from his partner, but decides he’d better not. He’s not really sure where the rest of the team is, but he realizes he doesn’t much care, because he’s seriously drifting off on his feet, so he takes the pillow, grabs the blanket and pulls it over him, and falls asleep.

Considering he doesn’t fit all the way on the sofa, and it shouldn’t be very comfortable, he actually gets some of the best sleep he’s had in a long while, and when he wakes up, it’s clearly evening, and he expects the office to be empty.

Which of course it’s not.

The light is on in Danny’s office, and Steve’s more than a little anxious about facing whatever is brewing there, but he figures better get it over with, so he takes a deep breath and heads over.

Danny’s sitting with his feet up on his desk, reading something on his phone, looking reasonably relaxed yet also on alert, almost as though he was keeping watch. Steve’s expecting some kind of lecture or something, so when he doesn’t get it, he almost feels relieved, but can’t quite, because he knows that probably means Danny’s beyond lecture point. Steve’s not really sure what that means, but he’s fairly certain it’s not good.

“Hungry?” Danny asks eventually, when Steve keeps standing there, saying nothing.

He shrugs. Honestly he’s not sure. It’s not been something he’s really noticed lately, hunger. More just a vague sense that it’s probably time to eat something.

Danny rolls his eyes. “Well, at least you slept, although, good luck getting to sleep tonight.”

“So, why’d you let me sleep so long?”

His eyebrows go up in that way that never means anything good when it comes to Danny’s mood. “Because clearly you needed it.”

Steve just nods. And continues to stand there. Honestly, he’d feel a lot better if Danny’d just yell at him. Which is when it occurs to him that might be exactly why Danny’s _not_ yelling.

Finally Danny stands, turns off his desk lamp, and turns Steve around, shoving him, none too gently, towards the door.

When they get to the parking lot, Steve half thinks Danny’ll send him home with nothing but a wave, but instead, Danny leads him toward the Camaro and he drives him to the grocery store. He puts Steve in front of a cart, and follows him wordlessly around the store as he, somewhat on auto pilot, adds things he thinks probably he needs to the cart. Danny tosses the bags in the trunk, and drives Steve home.

“Think you can swim without drowning?” He finally speaks when they walk in the door with the bags.

Steve nods, which at least gets a small smile from Danny who says “Good,” mostly under his breath, then heads to the kitchen to unload the groceries.

He doesn’t stay out for long, and he’s more than half expecting Danny to be gone having left a plate of food again, but when he comes back in, Danny’s on the sofa, shoes off, beer in hand, watching something on the TV. There’s no smell of food, no signs of cooking, and Steve’s more than a little let down, to be totally honest.

Danny’s playing “ignore Steve” again, so he heads up to shower, again expecting him to be gone when he’s done, but instead, when he comes back down, Danny’s still sitting there. So he grabs a beer for himself and goes to sit next to him, totally unsure what else to do, totally unsure what to say... basically totally unsure about everything.

Well. Except that he’s somehow really glad Danny’s still there. It feels kind of like the one good thing that’s happened lately. And probably that should worry him.

Once he’s sitting there, next to Danny, it occurs to him what he should do, and he feels a little dumb for not having seen it before.

“Hungry?” He asks, softly, watching Danny for a reaction. If he hadn’t been looking he’d have missed just the smallest upturn of the otherwise dour expression Danny’s been holding on to.

“Sure, babe,” he replies, nonchalantly, as though he hadn’t really thought of it, and while Danny sits on his sofa watching TV (although if he’s honest, he thinks it unlikely Danny’s paying any attention at all to whatever’s on), Steve heads to the kitchen and makes a simple meal of chicken and pasta and salad, which they eat outside, under the stars, while drinking a couple more beers, and it’s honestly the nicest evening he’s had in a really long time.

Well, except that he keeps expecting Danny to leave, and it takes him a while to figure out that he’s so freaking worried about that because he doesn’t want it to happen.

Danny cleans up, after they’re done eating, and Steve just stands in the kitchen watching, thinking this is a lot nicer than it should be, standing here in his kitchen, watching someone wash dishes. Except, and he’s an idiot, but it’s not just “someone” washing dishes, it’s Danny. And that makes kind of a huge difference, one which he’s starting to be able to almost admit.

When he finishes, he just kind of stands there, looking at Steve, not really expectantly, yet it feels expectant, and maybe that’s just his own energy reflected back at him because he’s kind of waiting for Danny to decide what’s next, tell him what to do... something. But he doesn’t. And all Steve can think is _I don’t want him to go not just yet_ , so he says—“TV?” and Danny nods, and they head to the living room where they wind up watching some science discovery something or other that’s vaguely enlightening but in a way that leaves you feeling like maybe you actually already knew most of that or something, but they’re resting, and it’s relaxing for Steve, and maybe it’s the kind of mind lulling of the show, or maybe it’s something calming that comes in waves off of Danny sometimes when they sit together like this, or... Steve’s not really sure, and he wishes he could be. Because he thinks, no—he’s fairly certain, that if he could have this, whatever it is, on something approaching a regular basis, well, he’s not sure what kind of an impact it would have, but he knows it would be a good one, and he wants it. So much he wants it.

And he also really doesn’t want Danny to leave.

That’s more of a slightly panicky thought, and it swirls up from behind and tickles him, and he keeps trying to shove it away, keeps trying to clear it from his mood, but it comes back stronger each time. By the time they’re done with the show, he’s fairly certain Danny must be able to see the anxiousness radiating off him.

Maybe he does, because he sits there, again with that expectant/not expectant thing and the looking at him, not judging, not with any clear sense of what his own thoughts or feelings are, just... being with him. And waiting.

“It’s late, we should....”

He thinks he was hoping Danny’d finish the thought, but he doesn’t, just lets his eyebrows drift slightly up, as if to say _Yes?_

“...We should sleep?”

And, yeah, he phrases it like a question, and then feels like a bit of an ass for that. But still Danny’s just waiting....

So he takes a deep breath because at this point what the hell, he feels so totally surreal already, he may as well ignore lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and since when have those mattered to them anyway... well, except those one or two they’ve more tended to wind around than cross really.

“So, um, would you, ah... would you come sleep with me in my bed? Just, you know, just sleep... but, you know, um. Next to me. If you like. Ahh... maybe?”

And the really strange thing—and really it’s surprising that Steve’s even capable enough to see it, given how terrified and not breathing and stuff he is, having managed to say all that—but the really strange thing is that Danny’s not shocked at all. If anything, he looks like he... well, like he _expected_ that. Which, just... can’t make sense, can it?

“Yep,” he finally says. “Let’s go.”

And... just like that... Steve finds himself walking upstairs... to his bedroom... with Danny at his side. Just completely as though it were a totally normal thing. And maybe what’s really weird is that it feels totally normal. Danny heads for the bathroom, and he showers, and he uses Steve’s towel, and he helps himself to a tee shirt and shorts to sleep in, and he did something about his teeth, because Steve can smell the mint from here, and something’s making his senses all heightened, but once Danny’s in bed, Steve heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and when he comes back out, Danny’s just sitting there, waiting for him. Nothing awkward about it or anything, just like Steve’s found him sitting, watching him, these past days. He thinks he should be able to tell something from the expression on Danny’s face, but when he tries, there’s just nothing there, nothing to access, just empty space in his head, and that’s partly a nice feeling, but partly he thinks he’s missing something really important.

Maybe because of that, because he has this feeling that he’s somehow failing Danny in some way, he settles down in bed on his side, facing Danny, who likewise turns to face him, still that seemingly blank expression on his face. They lie there like that for a while, and he’s not really very tired yet because of his long nap before, but he starts to feel drowsy and sleepy in a relaxed and comforting kind of way, and it’s almost as though he’s being lulled into it by Danny’s presence, his heat maybe. And he feels vaguely bad not saying anything, but slowly that just melts into it somehow feeling like the right thing after all, and slowly, bit by bit, they fall asleep.

He’s not really sure if he expected it, or just hoped for it, but in the morning, he’s disappointed to find they haven’t somehow wound up curled up around each other in the night. They’ve stayed on their sides of the bed. Just barely, but they have. Still, it’s deeply satisfying to feel Danny’s body heat in his bed, and that’s probably something he shouldn’t think too much about.

Before Danny can greet him with that expectant silence he’s coming to expect, he decides he’s just going to take over this morning.

“Why don’t you shower first, I’ll go make coffee and start breakfast,” and as soon as it’s out, and he hears it, and it sounds so... domestic. So... familiar, so easy, and so fucking right that it kind of jolts through him like some kind of realization that feels like it should have been hitting him over the head long before now.

Danny comes down, wearing his work clothes from the day before, but smelling soapy and wet and clean, and he takes the coffee Steve offers him with a smile, and they sit out on the lanai and eat their eggs and drink the fruit smoothies Steve made, and he feels better than he’s felt in a long time, and he thinks it must show, because Danny’s looking content, and he’s relaxed, and when he gets up, saying he’s gonna go get some fresh clothes before heading to work, he stops at Steve’s chair, and bends down to press a kiss to the top of his head.

The smile stays on Steve’s face through his shower, getting dressed (and, alright, he picks a nicer pair of pants than his usual worn and faded cargos, but that’s not because he’s trying to please Danny or anything, he just feels like looking nice), and even through the traffic he sits in on the way to the office, that smile never fades.

By the time he gets to work, Danny’s already there, and as he walks past Danny’s office to his own, he catches the somewhat appraising glance Danny lays on him as he walks by, and it’s like a booster for the smile, and it doesn’t fade until Tani calls them out for a case.

The smile returns, though, at the end of that long hard day, when they’re leaving, and in the parking lot, Danny goes to his car, grabs a bag from the trunk, and heads over to Steve’s truck, tossing his bag in, and climbing in next to it.

Feeling... maybe _curious_ is the best way of putting it, Steve gets in, and turns to look at Danny, knowing there’s a quizzical expression on his face, but not entirely sure Danny’ll answer it.

He kind of shrugs, meeting Steve’s look with one that’s nearly as perplexed, which considering he’s the one who clearly planned this, is a little amusing.

“Just, you know, until you’re better. It’s just easier this way.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Steve nods in agreement. “Easier. Yep.”

So he starts the truck and drives them home, and he thinks maybe Danny will cook while he swims, or maybe they’ll cook together after a couple of beers out on the beach, and maybe they’ll watch some TV, and maybe this time they’ll sleep a little closer.... And maybe it won’t be more than that, but it’s kind of hard to imagine going back to the other side of those lines they’ve crossed now. And that, Steve thinks, is just about how it should be. Because, yeah, it is, all of it, a lot easier when they’re not alone.


End file.
